


Everywhere You Go (Remember Us)

by SunriseSeaMonster



Category: ONEUS (Band), ONEWE (Band)
Genre: Am I really the first person to tag Sunny the dog?, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Drunken scene, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Smut, almost canon compliant, but not really, hopefully anyway, okay some tiny bit more than implied Junmyeong, some implied Junmyeong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 54,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/pseuds/SunriseSeaMonster
Summary: Yonghoon has enough to deal with as MAS re-debuts under a new name, ONEWE.  The last thing he needs is a distraction in the form of one rather feline ONEUS member.Updated advisory!The rating has been bumped up to Explicit, but the explicit chapters will be clearly listed here as well as indicated in boldfaced notes.  Please feel free to skip any explicit chapters.18+ Explicit Chapter Listing:Chapter 12Chapter 21Chapter 29
Relationships: Jin Yonghoon/Kim Youngjo | Ravn, Lee Junyoung | Jun/Son Dongmyeong
Comments: 340
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseIsRelatable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseIsRelatable/gifts).



> I blame the existence of this entire story on [Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseIsRelatable/profile), who made me do it. 🌸

This time he means it. This time, for real, when Yonghoon gets his hands on Dongmyeong, he is going to kick the ever-loving shit out of that little pixie. No amount of flashing that trademark million-megawatt smile is going to protect his younger bandmate. No amount of whiny little, “Oh, hyung, you always said it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission!” will spare Dongmyeong from Yonghoon’s righteous fury. 

Yea, though he doth walk in the valley of being a punk-ass little… spoiled… infuriating brat, so far Yonghoon has been tolerant. No more. He feels angry tears prickling his eyes, threatening to spill onto his glasses.

“Yonghoon?” calls out a familiar voice, loud and strained over the street noise, and Yonghoon realizes with a start that he must be visibly distressed, mind so fully on his own anger that he’s barely registering where the sidewalk turns into street. He snaps back to reality, footsteps wrenched at awkward angles as he shudders to a halt on the sidewalk. His eyes find the man who called out to him – Hyungu, the guitarist in their band.

Hyungu pauses to let a car pass and then sprints across the street. He reaches Yonghoon and pauses, as if he wishes he could take back that little sprint. “Hyung, you need to watch where you’re going,” he finally says, but it’s weak and without conviction. 

“I’m not the one playing Frogger in the streets of Seoul, am I?” 

Hyungu sighs, lets his shoulders fall. “If you’re upset that we asked you to be leader…” 

“You want to talk about this right here? Right now?” Yonghoon, eyes still glistening a bit, sweeps his arm haphazardly across the sidewalk, and sure enough, at least one woman passing by is already giving them A Look. 

Hyungu pauses for long enough that Yonghoon really thinks he might have forgotten there was a question, but the guitarist finally inclines his head toward the street and says, “You’re right. We’re inches away from being mowed over by a swerving hatchback. Come on, let’s talk in here.” He grabs Yonghoon’s elbow and ushers him into the storefront behind them. 

“A shoe shop?” laughs Yonghoon. Even now, he can’t help laughing. Laughing is as intrinsic to him as pausing is to Hyungu. This particular laugh has a bitter, disbelieving air, but the corners of Hyungu’s lips start to curl suspiciously upward, also. 

“Yes, hyung, a shoe shop. Look, there’s a sale on sandals; you could totally rock that one in the display.” 

“A gladiator sandal? I mean, I’m not saying I couldn’t rock it; I could rock anything, but – it’s February!” 

The corners of Hyungu’s mouth drop back down. He sighs and starts poking the toes of leather oxfords, walking slowly between the banks of shoes.

Yonghoon walks along a parallel aisle and finds himself caressing the suede of a blue sneaker. “Did you follow me down the street?” he asks.

“That makes it sound bad, malicious somehow… and you know we’re just concerned for you.” 

“But you don’t think I’m justified in being angry?” 

Hyungu doesn’t respond. He just keeps poking the toes of shoes; now he’s tracing the seams on a retro wingtip model. 

A pouting, teenaged girl approaches them, asking whether they need assistance. She seems relieved when both men thank her but wave her away.

In her absence, though, the silence is renewed. Yonghoon doesn’t like silence, but Hyungu’s not breaking.

“Look,” Yonghoon tells him, “You’re the one who chased after me and then brought me here to this very traditional location for a business meeting.” 

“Who says this is a business meeting?” Hyungu finally says.

“You’re right!” Yonghoon rolls his eyes. “Clearly this is a social visit, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Dongmyeong just told me he can’t wait until I enlist. You’re just really into shoes.” He narrows his gaze at his friend, and his hair falls in his eyes.

Hyungu scrunches his eyes closed and presses the bases of his palms against his eyelids. “I don’t think he meant it like that, Hyung.” 

Yonghoon considers this and brushes his bangs back off his glasses. He can’t help giving his hair a little shake, and some tiny part of him wonders whether any cute people maybe saw this sexy little gesture. He’s brought back to the present situation by a sort of low-pitched droning noise, gradually increasing in volume; it appears to be coming from Hyungu, who’s still got his hands over his eyes. How is everybody he knows so weird?

“What he have here,” Yonghoon decides, “is a failure to communicate.” 

Hyungu groans and lets his hands slide slowly down his face, which Yonghoon finds oddly reassuring. Better than the droning noise, anyway.

“So what we’re going to do now,” he continues, “is talk it out. Right here, right now.” He picks up the blue suede sneaker he’s been caressing. “Ring ring!” 

It’s Hyungu’s turn to laugh – a quick bark of a laugh, bewilderment on his face. “Ring ring!” Yonghoon repeats, now holding up the sneaker to the side of his face. “You gonna pick up that wingtip oxford or not? Pretty sure it’s for you.” 

Hyungu picks up the wingtip. He locks eyes with Yonghoon and raises the shoe slowly to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Good afternoon, this is your new leader, Yonghoon. May I speak to the lady or gentleman of the house?” 

“What?!” Hyungu laughs out loud, a real laugh this time. But he keeps the shoe to his face. 

“Yes,” continues Yonghoon, speaking into the suede sneaker. “It is I, your leader. And I have to tell you, my blood pressure is already better than it was ten minutes ago. But here’s the thing: if we are going to survive, if you and Dongmyeong and Harin and Giwook and I all want to do this, I mean really, really do this, then we cannot joke about certain topics. Changing our name, re-debuting… I know you all think I’m some sort of airhead, but this stuff is serious, and therefore I take it seriously. I can’t believe I’m saying this, and I know he’s young, but I’m going to want at least a little bit of respect.” He takes a deep breath. “From all of you. And you know I’m good to treat you all with respect, too, but if I fall short, I’ll expect you to hold me accountable.”

Hyungu bites his lower lip and shifts his shoe-handset to the other ear, which suddenly makes Yonghoon grin like a man possessed. No, really, his friends are so weird. It’s the best.

“We don’t think you’re an airhead, hyung,” says Hyungu into the shoe. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“No – I said I’d accept the leadership position; that means I should do it. But actually, tell you what; let’s just have a group meeting. I know we’ve had a few, and we’re going to have a lot more in the next few months. I’ll try not to –” 

But he’s cut off by a crashing sound; Yonghoon pieces together that the teenaged salesgirl has bumped into a stack of shoeboxes, sending the whole stack tumbling to the floor. Has she been watching their shoe conversation this whole time? 

Yonghoon locks eyes with Hyungu, who’s already hastily put back the wingtip. “Let’s go.” 

“We speak of this to no one…?” asks Hyungu. 

“Clearly.” Yonghoon laughs.

They dash for the street but can’t help casting twinkling, sidelong glances at each other. 

They’re almost back at the rehearsal space before Yonghoon feels the slight knot of anxiety return. It settles just below his sternum as he ponders just how much they’ve got ahead of them. How much work, how much sacrifice, all in pursuit of their common goals. Just… much. Of everything. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yonghoon has enough to deal with as MAS re-debuts under a new name, ONEWE. The last thing he needs is a distraction in the form of one rather feline ONEUS member.

The band members stand up from the large table in the agency boardroom, where they’ve just finalized the latest plans for their re-debut. 

Yonghoon hadn’t noticed until now, trying to stand, how shallow his breaths must have been this whole meeting. By the time he’s sighed deeply, twice, Dongmyeong has grabbed Giwook’s hand, practically skipping out of the room and dragging the bassist down the corridor. Hyungu calls weakly after them to wait, and Yonghoon hears some muffled response from Giwook. 

He meets eyes with Harin, the drummer, across the table. He looks as dazed as Yonghoon feels. “You good, Harin-ah?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am, hyung. It’s just a lot to take in. But I mean, it’s kind of exciting, too, right?” 

Yonghoon cuts his eyes quickly across the room to make sure no lingering agency execs are in earshot before responding. “Exciting, alright. Thrilling. Better than blow.” 

“What?!” Harin laughs. “You don’t do cocaine.” 

“No.” Yonghoon can’t contain his grin. “But it sounded good, and we’re going to be real-deal rock stars, soon, remember? I’m just practicing. Come on, let’s go eat with the others.” 

Yonghoon and Harin pack up the last of their belongings and leave the boardroom together, only to be literally run into by a pack of three guys roughly their age, headed the opposite direction. 

“MAS! You’re our brothers, now, right?!” shrieks the tallest one. Keonhee, if Yonghoon remembers correctly. The band met a few of the agency’s trainees earlier in the week, and he’s pretty sure Keonhee is the tall, loud one with a giant smile. 

“Are you supposed to be saying that so loudly? That’s months away!” hisses the shortest one. This one’s Hwanwoong, he’s pretty sure. 

“Guys. You not going to introduce me?” says the third guy, dark hair nearly covering his eyes. For a brief, insane moment, Yonghoon’s mind flashes one word at him: _GOLDILOCKS._ What? As they make eye contact, he determines that he definitely hasn’t met this trainee yet. He looks familiar, somehow, but Yonghoon would remember having met those bedroom eyes. 

Hwanwoong starts sputtering excuses but is cut off by the bedroom-eyed guy. Okay, Yonghoon is going to have to stop thinking of him as that. It’s no better than “Goldilocks.”

“I was at a shoot for a video when the others met you, I think. My name is Youngjo,” the man says. 

“I’m Yonghoon, and this is Harin.” Yonghoon points to his side, still looking at Youngjo. Youngjo’s lips curl into a lopsided smirk, and he cocks his head to his left a bit, looking toward the space Yonghoon indicated. Confused, Yonghoon looks to his side and sees Harin doing some strange, awkward hand-flailing little motion. “What are you doing, Harin-ah?!” he gasps. 

“They taught us the choreography to that one song, remember? I’m just doing it! To say hello!” 

The trainees look at each other, at Harin, at Yonghoon. They’re all speechless.

Yonghoon blinks his eyelashes as innocently as he possibly can. So much for signing with the big kids and acting mature now. “Well, gentlemen, you heard him. We’re delighted to meet you and grateful to have learned that choreography from you. It’s… it has not historically been our strong point.” 

Keonhee has his hands to his face and is giggling in delight. Hwanwoong’s face contorts with the effort of trying to contain his laughter, but a muffled “MPFFGH” escapes his lips. 

Yonghoon suddenly feels defensive of Harin. He can’t help noticing, though, that Youngjo isn’t laughing, just looking back at Yonghoon with… is he staring a bit? Wait, is Yonghoon staring back? He shakes his hair a bit and clears his throat. No, he’s pretty sure that’s just Youngjo’s natural expression.

“We were just going to dinner. Do you all want to come?”

Before they can answer, Harin says, “They were headed into the building, hyung, not out of it; that’s why they ran into us.” 

“Well, yeah,” chuckles Keonhee. Yonghoon laughs, by reflex. They must all think he’s an idiot. Well, whatever. What. Ever. 

After saying their goodbyes, Yonghoon and Harin finally make their way out of the building and hustle to the restaurant the band has chosen for dinner. 

_____ 

“What kept you?” demands Dongmyeong. Seems the younger three have just been waiting on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant.

“We ran into some of the agency trainees,” says Yonghoon. “Well, some of them, anyway. I’m not sure how many there are in the program, honestly. It doesn’t seem like their lineup is fixed yet.”

“Yeah?” the keyboardist looks away, an expression on his face that Yonghoon can’t quite place.

“Yeah. And Harin danced for them in the corridor.”

The others erupt. “You what?!” Amidst the laughter, Hyungu whacks Harin on the shoulder and says, “Good for you! They don’t have a monopoly on that dancing shit!” 

Just when the laughter is settling down, Harin brings his eyebrows together and says, “I’m just not sure what’s so funny about it,” which naturally sets them all off again. 

_____ 

He leans his forehead against the wall in the recording booth. The agency is recording his whistling, not for a project related to MAS but for another artist in the company.

It’s not that Yonghoon minds; he’s worked hard at developing good pitch control in his whistling, although singing will always be his first love. It’s just that things feel fragmented lately. For reasons that remain a little unclear to him, the powers that be had decided to send Dongmyeong to a reality TV competition. Well, the kid’s charismatic. He is. And Yonghoon is proud of him. 

It’s just led to a lot of awkward questions: Is the band still together? Is Dongmyeong still in the band? What’s the long-term plan, here? He’s been back for a few months, but Yonghoon has heard rumblings that the company wants to send them to another competition reality show – the whole band, this time. Is this too far? 

They agreed they’d do anything, though. Anything. For each other, for the success of the band.

And in the meantime, Yonghoon is here, recording whistling for someone else’s track. It’s fine. Really. Fine. Well, okay. Maybe it’s a bit weird. 

Still, signing their recent agreement means moving into company housing, and he figures that will help them feel more unified once more. They’re moving in three days, and Yonghoon reminds himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He shimmies his shoulders back down away from his ears, takes a deep breath, and puts his hand on his belly, measuring his breathing. 

_____ 

The day before the scheduled move-in, Yonghoon orders an iced Americano at the company café. He settles into a chair, elbows on the table. His hands swirl the cup gently, and he watches the ice spin in lazy circles.

“You okay?” Youngjo is standing next to the table. _Just right,_ Yonghoon’s brain tells him. _Goldilocks._

“Yeah. Fine. How’re you?” 

Instead of answering the question, Youngjo asks, “You want company?”

Yonghoon sweeps his hair off his forehead, smiles, and says – in what he hopes is a casual tone of voice – “Sure!” 

The dark-haired rapper pulls out the chair across from Yonghoon and sits down, with a distinct elegance. It reminds him of something, but he can’t quite place the association. 

Yonghoon risks cutting a quick glance at the mirror on one wall of the café, to check his bangs, and his eyes meet Youngjo’s; he’s doing the exact same thing. The moment is so absurd and obvious that they both laugh – Yonghoon’s laugh a loud silvery peal, and Youngjo’s a more contained chuckle. _Like running your hands over polished oak,_ thinks Yonghoon. 

“So, hyung. What’s really going on?” asks Youngjo.

Yonghoon looks across the table, at the heart-shaped lips and earnest expression peering intensely at him. He clocks a soft curl of hair poking in an awkward direction from behind Youngjo’s right ear. 

“I’m a little afraid,” says Yonghoon – and as soon as he’s said it, he realizes it’s the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments much, much appreciated. Also appreciated: your kindness in not nitpicking the exact timeline, especially pre-debut. Artistic license and all that. Thank you!


	3. Chapter The Third

“I’m a little afraid,” says Yonghoon, and what he immediately expects to hear is, “What are you afraid of?” 

What Youngjo asks instead is: “How can you be sure?” 

And for once, Yonghoon finds he has no answer. How can he be sure? Isn’t fear just a feeling? He opens his mouth, closes it again, and giggles. He can feel himself blinking, and the rapper smiles. Yonghoon breaks eye contact and cuts his eyes back to his drink. He’s not sure where these nerves are coming from. Maybe he’s just feeling cagey, having told a near-stranger that he’s afraid.

“It’s just… sometimes I think I’m afraid of something, when really it turns out I was just angry,” says Youngjo. 

Yonghoon nods. The air between them settles back more evenly, as both men absorb each other’s little windows of vulnerability.

They sit together at this café table, quiet, Yonghoon running his fingers slowly over the top of the wooden table. The quiet lasts long enough that he starts to focus on the ice melting in his cup. Still, it’s a comfortable silence, which is a novel feeling for Yonghoon. 

He occasionally looks up to see Youngjo looking at him with deep, intense eyes – _not bedroom eyes, enough of that._

Yonghoon is used to some level of attention – a sort of background level of glances and darting eyes. Occasionally, if he’s put any real effort into his appearance, the background noise escalates into a hum of double-takes, extended stares, and even sometimes whispers between friends. Of all Yonghoon’s insecurities, his appearance is not one of them. 

So… why does it feel like the way Youngjo is looking at him is as much about being seen as it is about looking?

“Let’s do this again sometime,” says the deep-eyed trainee, rising to leave, and Yonghoon says “That’d be great!” too hastily, too loudly, in what he suspects is a futile effort to camouflage the shiver rolling down between his shoulder blades.

“Actually,” says Youngjo, turning around, “You’re moving in, tomorrow, right? I’ll be around. I can help out. I know where to find you.” He smiles a half-smile and turns back toward the exit, leaving Yonghoon holding his cup of now watery coffee in his hand – and his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and the butterflies in his stomach.

_____ 

The band members move their belongings into the dorm building, right across the hallway from the agency’s apartment for boy trainees. 

Youngjo doesn’t show. Yonghoon is almost distracted enough not to notice. Almost. Why should it matter, though?

It’s a small apartment, but the process still takes longer than Yonghoon had anticipated. They bring carload after carload inside. He feels himself dragging, and by mid-afternoon, Hyungu is staring daggers in his direction. 

“Hyung, you literally had one job this past hour,” the guitarist scolds him.

“Listen, sorting out the kitchen wares takes longer than you think!”

At this, Harin barks a laugh and wads up packing paper, throwing it at their leader’s head. Yonghoon shrieks and ducks. He shakes his head indignantly. “Asshole! If you don’t want me helping, I won’t!” 

Giwook comes in, holding armfuls of linens, and says, “Don’t know what I missed, but you should be kind to Yonghoon-hyung. He’s far too old to do anything more strenuous than sorting the kitchen cabinet contents.” Yonghoon sputters and throws the packing paper wad at the bassist, knocking the linens onto the floor. Giwook yelps. “Are you shitting me? I am not running all this through the wash again!” 

“No respect for your elders, Giwook-ah! You are a beastly child and I regret ever thinking you were an upstanding young man!” But they’re both laughing and reaching for more packing paper, already. 

Hyungu and Harin clock what’s about to happen and speak over each other in a hurry to forestall a packing-paper fight. “No! Enough! This can wait until we’re done!” 

“What can wait?” asks Dongmyeong, entering the apartment with boxes of hair and skincare products. 

On impulse, Yonghoon takes his freshest wad of packing paper and flings it at the keyboardist, catching him neatly right at the throat. 

“WHAT?!” screams Dongmyeong, as soon as his breath returns. Before any of them can try to explain, he’s reaching for a cardboard tube, and it’s all downhill from there. 

Not twenty minutes pass before Harin is covered head to toe in static-clinging Styrofoam packing peanuts, and Hyungu’s hair has packing tape jammed in between the strands. Giwook has a superficial but impressive-looking cardboard cut along the back of one arm, above his elbow, and Yonghoon swears a tooth is loose from where one of Hyungu’s cardboard missiles whacked him in the face. Not that he’s about to admit it, though, and let them make a joke about dentures. He’s known them too long. 

It’s in this state, brand new apartment and brand new building residents equally covered in packing materials and the scent of sweat, that a few friendly voices fill their doorway. 

“Hi! We thought you might want some snacks!” says Hwanwoong, hoisting aloft a plastic bag. He’s joined by Keonhee and Gunmin, both waving happily. No Youngjo, Yonghoon clocks. Though it doesn’t matter, obviously. He’s not holding someone he barely knows to an impulsive café promise. 

The members of MAS quickly attempt to make themselves presentable, Hyungu wincing as he tries to extract the packing tape from his hair. 

“Sorry about the mess,” says Harin. “Here, we’ll clear you a spot on… uh… the…” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the sofa, which is completely obscured by boxes and other debris. 

“It’s okay. We really did just come to drop off some snacks. Figured you’d need them,” says Gunmin. He smiles, crescent-eyed, and Keonhee adds, “I didn’t even steal any for myself!” 

Yonghoon laughs along with the others. He’s liking his new agency-mates already. 

“We’d also like to invite you to some… totally above-board, not-at-all-adult beverages tonight, once you’re all settled in,” says Hwanwoong. 

“Well, honestly, it’ll probably take us longer than a day to get settled in, if we keep being this, uh, efficient,” responds Hyungu. 

“But we’d love to come anyway!” cuts in Yonghoon. The other MAS members look at him in surprise. Giwook shrugs and says, “Yeah.” 

“Cool, well, there’s no official start time or anything. Just knock on our door whenever you like!” adds Keonhee. 

After the trainees have gone, the MAS members all turn to look at Yonghoon. “You think we’ll have time for that, hyung?” asks Harin. 

“Tidying up can wait. _Hey,_ Hyungu-yah, don’t give me that look! We should be friendly; we’re going to be seeing a lot of them, right? I want us to start off on the right foot. Besides, we don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow. You two –” Yonghoon indicates Dongmyeong and Giwook. “How’s your room looking?” 

They look at each other and shrug. “Fine, mostly,” says Dongmyeong. Giwook nods.

“And we’ve got nothing on the schedule tomorrow. Lighten up, guys. As your leader, it’s not just my job to keep us together in business, right? We should go be friendly. You know, be socially normal.” 

The other members all make amused noises at this instruction. 

“Or try, okay?!” Yonghoon rolls his eyes. “Geeze. And you all say I’m the old man!” 

Dongmyeong, to his surprise, backs him up. “Actually, I really got close to a few of the guys when we were filming. It’d be nice to spend more time with them and to get to know the other trainees that weren’t on the show with me.” 

How could Yonghoon have forgotten? Of course Dongmyeong already knows some of the guys across the hall well. Maybe it’s projection; since he, Yonghoon, doesn’t yet know them well, he’d sort of assumed his bandmates didn’t either.

At any rate, the issue seems settled. Tonight, it’s party time. 

Assuming, that is, that any of them can find clean clothing in this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, are we all still breathing after that Twit cover music video? Losing our minds over ONEWE and ONEUS promoting together on the same music show? Just me? Cool, cool.


	4. Chapter [0&]4

Yonghoon peers into the small magnifying mirror in the bathroom and considers swapping out his glasses for contacts. If he does that, though, he suspects he’ll have to field questions from his bandmates about it, and he’s honestly not even ready to field questions about it from within himself. Anyway, the glasses are kind of hot. He adjusts his hair around the frames and gives himself a satisfied hum of approval. 

Not that it matters, of course. Yonghoon just doesn’t want the fancy pop idol trainees getting ideas. They’re not the only hot ones here, not anymore. Every rock band has its own sort of glamour, right? Well, okay, maybe Dongmyeong’s knee socks aren’t glamorous. But they’re really stinkin’ cute. And if he’s being honest with himself, sometimes Yonghoon enjoys that the other vocalist is a bit of a foil to his own brand of dashing handsomeness. 

“Hyung!” Giwook knocks on the door, a quick series of loud, impatient thwacks. “Are you admiring yourself in there again? The hell is taking you so long?” 

The nerve. “I… dropped a contact!” 

“Why’re you putting in contacts?” Oh, for fuck’s sake. So much for avoiding questions about it. Fine, whatever. “Well, I mean, I guess I’m not now, am I? I’ll be right out!”

Yonghoon gives himself one last glance and heads to the bedroom he shares, as of today, with Harin and Hyungu. He finds his favorite Hermès cologne and gives himself a quick spritz. Despite the hot shower he took, he wonders whether they’ll be able to smell the moving-day sweat-splosion on him. He frowns at the Hermès bottle and decides another spritz is probably fine. Or two.

Harin walks into the bedroom and immediately starts gagging. “Yonghoon-hyung, are you trying to smother us all? At least wait until the sofa is clear, in case somebody needs to go sleep on it!”

“Hey, no need to be dramatic!” Yonghoon pouts. Why is everyone being such a jerk to him today? Ugh, he needs a drink. Well, it’s true that everybody is exhausted. “Sorry, Harin,” he says, and the drummer blinks back at him a few times before smiling gently. 

“It’s okay, but maybe let’s run the fan while we’re gone; a little circulation can’t hurt, right, hyung?” Yonghoon quickly nods his agreement.

Giwook is in and out of the bathroom quickly, then joins the others waiting by the door. His eyes quirk into a lopsided smile as he asks them, “Why did you wait? Are we going across the hallway like little ducklings?”

“Ah, Giwookie!” Dongmyeong shoves his arm. “We’re a family. We weren’t going to leave you, not even to go across the hallway.” 

The mood feels lighter, and Yonghoon feels his face relax as they knock on the door across the hall. 

_____ 

Not all of the trainees are home, it seems. They’re greeted by the same three who bestowed the snack-blessing upon the MAS members earlier in the day, and Yonghoon sighs audibly when he comes to terms with the fact that it’s just going to be them, all evening. 

Wait, is he disappointed? What else did he expect? Whom else did he expect? 

But as he thinks this to himself, his eyes land on a row of small suitcases, stashed against the wall of the trainees’ living area. He sees the luggage tags, and written on one, in large, childlike handwriting, is the name _Kim Youngjo._

He inhales sharply and realizes – like this, looking at a damn luggage tag, a _luggage tag!_ – that yes… yes, he wanted Kim Youngjo to be at this silly little party, and yes, fuck it, he has a crush on the man. He, Jin Yonghoon, has a _crush._ On someone he barely knows, who’s got bedroom eyes and a perfect nose and a heart-shaped mouth and is just exactly fucking right, like fucking Goldilocks.

Oh, this is awful. This is **horrible.**

He for sure needs a drink now. 

“Whatcha got?” he asks Keonhee, who’s mixing some questionable-looking liquids into a large plastic pitcher in the kitchen. _Youngjo Youngjo Youngjo,_ interrupts a little voice, from the back of Yonghoon’s skull. Goddamn.

“Well, I saw this on a TV show, how you can make drinks that stay a bit marbled-looking. I just adapted it to be purple, because, you know, it sounded like fun! And it’s purple!” Yes, boy is it ever purple. Yonghoon suddenly feels like knowing this about Keonhee – that he would pick a drink recipe based on its purpleness – tells him more than he could have learned in an hour of chit-chat. 

“Awesome! I’ll take a glass of it, please,” he hears himself say. _Youngjo,_ whispers the inner skull-voice.

“Really?! Hwanwoong said it looked gross, and that he’s not touching it for love or money, but he’s always such a downer about my recipes. But anyway, just look at how pretty it looks!” says Keonhee, eyes sparkling. “I’m calling it Vitamin Purple!” 

Yonghoon’s stomach does a mild impression of a somersault, but… he needs. a. drink. This will do. “Yep, make it a tall one, please!” 

Keonhee pours two glasses of Vitamin Purple, and they toast. Taking a sip of the drink brings tears to both of their eyes, and even Keonhee is looking a little less excited about his concoction now. “Do you like it?” asks the gangly would-be bartender. 

Yonghoon takes another large swig from his glass, swallows, and takes a deep breath. “Yes! See?” 

Keonhee beams at him. “I knew it! Hwanwoong is such a spoilsport.” 

“Hey!” says Hwanwoong, approaching the kitchen area. “What are you saying about me? Wait, oh my God, Yonghoon-hyung, are you seriously drinking this stuff?!”

“He likes it!” says Keonhee, as Yonghoon takes yet another swig, struggling to keep the tears from his eyes. “Don’t you?” 

“Mmm!” says Yonghoon. 

Hwanwoong narrows his eyes up at Yonghoon, skepticism on his face like a neon sign. But then he laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not so bad! But let me know when you need a palate cleanser, okay? Anyway, glad you all came over. I think the others are all playing some card game.”

Yonghoon stands next to the kitchen sink a moment longer, trying to concentrate on Keonhee’s voice instead of the inner voice repeating _Youngjo, Youngjo, Youngjo_ like some sinister, monastic chant. 

“… and it’s then that I realized my sister’s towel had gotten sand all over it, but she was little and didn’t know any better, and so she just put it right back into the closet with the sand, and that’s where it had all been coming from! Our own linen closet!” Keonhee laughs, and Yonghoon remembers to laugh with him, grateful that laughing comes easily to him anyway. Keonhee really does seem to be a nice guy. He just talks… a lot.

By this point, Yonghoon’s head is swimming a bit. He’s tempted to ask what exactly is inside Vitamin Purple but decides that not knowing is probably safer.

Keonhee’s onslaught of tangential flashbacks continues. “Hey, Keonhee, I’m going to go check out this card game, alright?” Yonghoon finally manages to get a word in edgewise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course! I’m actually sitting out the first few rounds, because I’d beat them all, and I don’t want them to be in a bad mood the whole evening.” Keonhee grins and raises one conspiratorial eyebrow.

Yonghoon laughs. “Okay, I won’t tell them you said that.” 

“Oh, they know,” says Keonhee. “They don’t like it when one person wins too much, and they’ll get grouchy with that person. But anyway, I think they’ll like you just fine!” 

Yonghoon laughs again, this time because he’s somehow managed to be insulted yet again today. But at least it’s a distraction, right? 

He sits down at the card circle between Gunmin and Harin. “Deal me in?” he asks Gunmin. 

“Sure thing, hyung!” 

Yonghoon pushes his glasses up his nose and stares at his cards. Are they… are the designs on them supposed to be moving slightly? Blurring back and forth a teensy bit? 

Oh, damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will never believe me when I tell you that this almost didn't get finished specifically due to my brain being too addled by that ONEWE cover of Twit. 
> 
> Whoops!


	5. Chapter 5

Yonghoon manages to make it through exactly one round of the card game before realizing that he is well and truly drunk. 

He excuses himself from the game and sits with his back against the wall, head spinning, pretending to follow the game as the others continue to play. His thoughts feel… well, they feel purple. Purple and marbled and swirled. 

He runs his hands through his hair and decides he must be overreacting. It’s just a crush. Youngjo didn’t even show today, neither to help move nor to the welcome party the other trainees are throwing the MAS contingent. Yonghoon decides, as firmly as his addled brain can manage, that he will simply… simply Not Care. He’s an adult and in charge of his own thoughts and feelings.

No sooner has he decided this than the front door opens, and in walks an elegant, deep-eyed rapper, still (or again?) with that one untidy little lock of hair, peeking out at an angle from behind a perfectly-formed ear. Yonghoon gasps, then groans inwardly.

_So much for not caring._

And even worse… Youngjo has been looking straight at him since he walked in the door. Excepting a brief toss of his head aside, to acknowledge the card-game players, his attention has been zeroed in on Yonghoon. Yonghoon may be drunk, but he’s sober enough to notice this little detail. 

Before he can really process whether he even wants Youngjo to come over, the trainee is crossing the room to where Yonghoon is sitting against the wall. He squats down, looks at Yonghoon, looks at the purple dregs in Yonghoon’s glass, and laughs – a proper, golden, burnished laugh. 

“Is that some shit that Keonhee made? Why is he like this?” 

“You didn’t help us move,” says Yonghoon, regretting what he says before he even finishes speaking the last word in his sentence. 

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Youngjo smiles – apologetically? – and then _sits down next to Yonghoon¸_ against the wall, as if it were fine, as if everything were fine. Yonghoon grimaces, thinking his heart and brain are going to combust. Youngjo’s wearing a denim jacket and sits close enough to Yonghoon that, as he settles his limbs down, he can feel the rough material through the thin fabric of his own button-down shirt. Yep, heart and brain explosion. It’s going to be messy. It’s going to be full of Vitamin Purple. 

“You don’t look so hot, hyung, I gotta tell you. Don’t puke on me, alright?” 

And if he didn’t feel utterly like puking before, he sure does now. He braces himself against Youngjo’s shoulder – _he touched Youngjo’s shoulder_ – and lurches to the bathroom. 

_____ 

He’s slumped over the sink, running cool water across his hands, when he hears knocking and Giwook’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door. _Déjà vu._

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’ll be right out!” 

“Okay, well, some of us have to use the bathroom, hyung. Don’t die in there, okay?” 

Yonghoon does actually feel a lot better. His wounded pride is a different matter. He looks around the bathroom, making sure he isn’t leaving it in any particularly gross state. He opens the door to see not only Giwook but also Dongmyeong. Concern is etched all over their faces, and Dongmyeong reaches out to Yonghoon before hesitating and taking his hand back. 

“I’m fine,” repeats Yonghoon. Desperately hoping Youngjo will have moved to the group of guys playing the card game, and therefore be distracted, he sidesteps his younger bandmates and walks toward the living area of the trainee apartment. 

No such luck. Youngjo is still seated against the wall, but as soon as he sees Yonghoon, he scrambles to his feet. “Hey guys,” he announces. “I’m just going to take Yonghoon back across to the MAS apartment, since he’s not feeling well.” 

Hyungu raises his beer bottle and says, “You mean wasted!” 

“Hey, be nice to your leader!” scolds Youngjo, and Yonghoon is stunned – or inebriated – enough not to say anything at all in response. “Come on, I’ve got you.” He turns to Yonghoon and softly wraps one denim-sleeved arm around Yonghoon’s back. Yonghoon is noticeably the taller of the two, but it works, somehow. _Just right._

They pause in the corridor between the two apartments, and Yonghoon tells him, “I’m not even that drunk any more, and I’m not usually like this.”

“Oh, I saw – and smelled – that thing Keonhee made. I’m not blaming you at all.” 

Yonghoon thanks every god he knows that he remembers his new door code; that would have been one humiliation too many. Youngjo doesn’t say a word about the state of their apartment, still a disaster zone of packing materials. He gently removes his arm from Yonghoon’s back, sweeps a wide armload of debris off the sofa, clearing away a roughly person-sized area. 

“So what, you’re my knight in shining armor, now?” laughs Yonghoon. 

“Oh, thank God, you’re laughing again. I was worried.” He reaches out and takes both Yonghoon’s hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Now sit down. I’m going to grab you a glass of water.”

Yonghoon obediently sits on the sofa and watches Youngjo rummage around the kitchen cabinets. 

“Where the hell are your glasses? Oh, never mind, I found one. Man, who organized your kitchen cabinets?! This is terrible. I guess you all just moved in… but still.”

“Um,” says Yonghoon, watching Youngjo fill the glass with filtered water. 

“Well, anyway,” says Youngjo, handing over the glass, “I guess now’s not the time, seeing as you’re incapacitated and whatnot. But, so…” He looks unsure of himself for the first time that Yonghoon has seen. “Are we just going to keep pretending we don’t want to make out?”

Yonghoon stares at him.

“I mean, I’m fine with that if you are, I guess,” shrugs Youngjo. 

“I… I guess so. It’s working out so far, right?” he manages. ( _Youngjo Youngjo Youngjoyoungjoyoungj—_ )

“Well, like I said, maybe when you’re drunk isn’t the time to have the conversation. I’ve got to get back anyway, before Hwanwoong gets snarky and Gunmin starts floating conspiracy theories about my absence. Let me know if you need anything. You know I mean it.” He turns to go.

“Hey… thank you,” says Yonghoon, leaning forward to try to catch Youngjo before he’s out the door. “Thank you,” he repeats. 

“It’s okay,” responds Youngjo. “I’m no hero.” He looks thoughtful for a second, then smiles and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To minimize confusion, I'm using the most common romanized spellings of names. But it weirds me out so much that the same first syllable is spelled "Geon" [Geonhak], "Keon" [Keonhee], and "Gun" [Gunmin]!


	6. Chapter 6

Yonghoon wakes up on the sofa, surrounded by packing paper and partially deconstructed cardboard boxes. Someone has kindly draped a blanket on top of him. He moves his head and flinches, as the motion sets off popping sounds directly into his ear. A shadow moves near his head, and he shrieks, then immediately regrets making such a loud noise. 

“Sorry, hyung,” says Harin’s kindly voice. Yonghoon sees the drummer hovering over the sofa, swaying gently. Yonghoon feels motion sick and closes his eyes again. “The bubble wrap pillow wasn’t our finest moment, but it seemed to make sense at the time. We were afraid to bring you your real pillow, since it smelled so much like cologne. We thought it might, you know, worsen your condition.”

Yonghoon can only groan in response. Hadn’t they had some conversation about sleeping on the sofa and spraying perfume around? Oh, it’s all foggy. He tries to move his tongue inside his mouth, with limited success.

“Anyway,” says Harin, “I have to go in a few minutes. I have music lessons all day. But Dongmyeong and Giwook said they’d take good care of you, okay?”

Yonghoon whimpers again and draws the blanket up, closer to his face. 

“Great, good talk. Feel better, Yonghoon-hyung.” Yonghoon hears Harin’s footsteps fall away. He’s relieved by the absence of the swaying motion next to the sofa and eventually opens his eyes, blinking carefully.

Based on his headache this morning – after drinking only one glass of the stuff! – Yonghoon suspects that Keonhee’s secret ingredient in Vitamin Purple is battery acid. That or sheer, liquid karma for all Yonghoon’s sins in a past life. 

He tentatively risks a trip to the bathroom, noticing that the doors to both bedrooms are still closed. What time is it, anyway? Yonghoon realizes he has no idea. Harin’s lessons sometimes start very early in the morning. He stumbles toward the kitchen and reads the time on the microwave: 7:40am. Wow – that is early, even for Harin. He takes a moment to congratulate his past self for setting the time on the microwave when they were moving in – _and they had called him lazy, tsk tsk_ – and grabs the roll of paper towels off the holder. Yonghoon stumbles back to the sofa and swaps out the roll of paper towels for the bubble wrap pillow. It crumples a bit under the weight of his head, but at least it’s quiet. He’ll sleep for another hour or so, until the younglings are awake. 

_____  
Yonghoon feels a hand against his forehead, then hears Dongmyeong’s burbling voice say, “No, he doesn’t have a fever. I think he really did just get that drunk. Old people get bad hangovers. Wait, hyung, are you awake?”

He opens his eyes and clears his throat. “What time is it?” The light in the apartment is all… different. 

“It’s about 3:00 in the afternoon, actually,” says Giwook. What?! Really?

“Really?” They both nod. “Are you two the only ones home?” 

“Yeah,” says Dongmyeong. “Hyungu-hyung had to go buy guitar strings but then texted to say he’s watching some free outdoor music event, and Harin’s still not back from lessons. Giwook’s actually about to head out to the store, too, but I’m going to take such good care of you, okay?” 

Yonghoon sighs. “You’re a good kid, Myeongie. Honestly, at this point I’m mostly just hungry.” His stomach murmurs agreement. “In fact, I’m really, really hungry.” 

“Okay, I’m out. Text if you need anything from the store,” says Giwook. He puts on his sneakers and closes the door behind him, a little less softly than Youngjo had the evening before. 

_YOUNGJO._ Oh, no. Not this again. In his stupor, Yonghoon had almost forgotten about his crush. About... what Youngjo asked him last night. Almost.

“What are you hungry for, hyung?” asks Dongmyeong. Yonghoon takes a moment to think about it, and Dongmyeong adds, “While you were sleeping, I took the liberty of rearranging our kitchen just the tiniest bit. I hope you’re not offended.” 

Yonghoon manages a small laugh. They’re never going to let him live down this kitchen organization business, are they? Well, no matter; he’s never exactly been the domestic wizard type. 

“I’ll eat anything you make, but honestly all I want is salt. Ramen would be perfect.”

“Good! Good.” Yonghoon can hear the relief in Dongmyeong’s voice and wonders what would have happened if he’d requested kimchi jjigae or oxtail soup.

They sit on the floor together, Yonghoon eating at a near-frantic pace and Dongmyeong hugging his knees, watching him. As Yonghoon slows, then finishes his ramen, Dongmyeong asks him, “Hyung? Do you mind if I run something by you?”

_Anything to keep a wandering, tired mind firmly off Just Right rappers and their crazy questions._

“Sure, Dongmyeong. What’s up?” 

__

“It’s my brother…” He traces a pattern on the floor on front of him. 

__

“Everything okay?” Yonghoon is concerned; he’s known Dongju for as long as he’s known Dongmyeong. Twins are a package deal, he’d learned very quickly. Dongju had come to all of the band’s busking performances, even when they were unsigned and totally unknown. Though not a member of MAS, Dongju’s satellite presence has frequently cheered and comforted them all. The twins bicker regularly, but Yonghoon knows Dongmyeong cares for his brother with a fierce, unswerving love. 

__

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, he’s fine. I mean… yeah, he’s fine.” 

__

“But?” 

__

“Well, I was thinking… I was wondering if it made sense for him to maybe audition for the agency.” 

__

Yonghoon blinks at Dongmyeong for a moment. “Like, to join our band?” He has never once before even considered the possibility. It just didn’t seem like Dongju’s thing. Then again, Dongmyeong had initially wanted to be a trot singer, so who knows?

__

Dongmyeong laughs – a bubbly, incandescent laugh that still, without fail, cheers Yonghoon (and, he suspects, anybody else who hears it). “No, silly. For the idol group they’re putting together. He’s been training and studying to become an actor, but he’s been struggling to really commit to that path. Going to acting auditions and all the rest of it. I’m just not sure he’s a good fit for acting.” 

__

“Okay, but hang on a second,” says Yonghoon. “Acting’s no picnic, but you want to know what career path is even harder in this country?” 

__

“I know, I know! But I still just have this hunch, like the reason he can’t commit to acting is that deep down inside he knows he’d regret giving up music for the rest of his life.” 

__

“But there are ways to pursue a career in music without becoming an idol! Lots of them.” 

__

“So you think it’s a bad idea?”

__

Yonghoon sighs. “I didn’t say that. I hadn’t really thought about it. All I’m saying is that idol training is brutal, and I can’t imagine it working as a feasible backup career choice. You’ve got to be all in, you know?”

__

Dongmyeong nods. “Yeah. I do know. And I guess… well, you don’t really talk about your days as an idol trainee. Like, we know it happened, but you haven’t exactly shared details.” 

__

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that.” Yonghoon sees Dongmyeong’s startled expression and laughs. “No, sorry, that was maybe a bit overdramatic. But it’s rough, Myeongie. Real rough.” 

__

Dongmyeong picks at an invisible piece of lint on his knee, his lips in a borderline pout.

__

Yonghoon reaches over and places his hand over Dongmyeong’s. “You know him best. That’s what twins are for, right? You probably know him better in some ways than he knows himself. If you think he should try it, then he should try it. Besides, an audition alone doesn’t lock him in for life or anything. You saw how much paperwork we had to sign just to change agencies, and how long the process took!” 

__

Dongmyeong unfolds his legs and stretches. “Okay. Thank you, Yonghoon-hyung.” 

__

“Any time.” 

__

“Hey, you’re feeling better, right?” asks Dongmyeong. 

__

“Loads. But I won’t feel truly better until I’ve showered.” 

__

“Then I’ll leave you to it; pretty sure you can handle that on your own.” Dongmyeong pulls a sour face, and Yonghoon laughs a full, eye-squinting, belly-deep laugh. 

__

“You’re a good kid, Dongmyeong.” Yonghoon’s eyes twinkle. Dongmyeong tries to continue pouting, but his dimple betrays him.

__

“I’m going back to my room for a bit, okay? But let me know if you need anything.” 

__

_____

__

Yonghoon takes a long, steaming shower. As he dries his hair, he decides he feels like a human again. 

__

He walks out of the bathroom and realizes the apartment is still totally quiet. Wait, wasn’t Giwook just going to the store? What’s been keeping him?

__

Yonghoon knocks on the door of the room Dongmyeong shares with Giwook. When he doesn’t hear an answer, he tries the knob, finds it unlocked, and opens the door. 

__

No Dongmyeong. 

__

What? Where _is_ everybody?

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo............... how 'bout them Dongmyeong arms, huh?


	7. We're already at Chapter 7?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday I posted a chapter about how Dongju used to tag along to all of the MAS performances, and how he supported his brother for years as the band busked around the country. 
> 
> Not three hours later, on the twins' surprise live broadcast, one of the topics they mentioned was... how Dongju used to tag along to all of the MAS performances, and how he supported his brother for years as the band busked around the country. 
> 
> If we're living in some strange sci-fi world, and this story has predictive properties... well, anyway, I'll let you enjoy reading. 😊

Fearing disaster, injury, or alien abduction, Yonghoon scrambles through the apartment, looking for his phone. He finally finds it in an incredibly unlikely location: exactly where it’s supposed to be, plugged in behind his bed. To his relief, he has a flurry of texts from Dongmyeong. No aliens today, unless you count the way his brain still shudders with the faintest echo of an extraterrestrial level of nausea.

 **dongdding:** _I’m going to the agency, can you go, too?_  
**dongdding:** _sorry, I’m not sure you heard me shouting_  
**dongdding:** _I tried tolllvlvvv_  
**dongdding:** _sorry, didn’t mean to hit send. anyway I’m not sure whether you heard me but I hope you read this soon_  
**dongdding:** _you sing really loudly in the shower, hyung_  
**dongdding:** _like really kind of crazy loudly, it’s kind of weird_  
**dongdding:** _okay, it’s kind of urgent, but can you come to the agency? I’ll meet you outside_  
**dongdding:** _don’t worry, it would just take too long to explain by text, okay?_

Yonghoon sighs. Dongmyeong has not yet learned a very basic life lesson; telling somebody not to worry only ever does one thing: make that person worry. He tries calling Dongmyeong, then Hyungu. When neither of them pick up, he gives up. Harin looks at his phone at most once a day, if the moon is in the right phase and the planets are aligned properly, and Giwook always declines his calls, anyway. He hopes they are all indeed at the agency and doing okay. 

Maybe they got in trouble for having a party last night? Did somebody tattle? But Yonghoon got the messiest, and nobody from the agency has tried contacting him. 

Still, he’s relieved that they haven’t all just disappeared. He texts Dongmyeong to let him know he’s on his way, throws on a knitted sweater, and then decides that the August evening is surely warm enough without it. He instead grabs a light jacket, checks his reflection one last time, and heads out the door. 

The agency building is close enough that it’s a pleasant stroll in the evening light, and the fresh air feels amazing, especially after the events of the last couple of days. He approaches the building to see Dongmyeong hopping from one foot to the other, on the sidewalk. 

“Hi, Yonghoon-hyung!” The keyboardist’s face is radiant; the megawatt smile is back. Okay, that’s a good sign. 

“What’s up? Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” 

“I can’t explain! No time! Come on, let’s head inside.” Dongmyeong grabs Yonghoon’s hand and drags him inside the building. 

They enter the larger boardroom, and about a dozen voices shout, “SURPRISE! Happy birthday!” 

Yonghoon looks at all the happy, expectant faces, at the paper decorations on the painted cinderblock walls, at the poster they’ve all signed, lying on the table – and immediately starts crying.

It’s just too much, after the physical and emotional roller-coaster of the last 24 hours.

His band members pat him roughly on the back a few times, and Hyungu tells the idol trainees, “Don’t worry! This is normal for him!” – which just makes Yonghoon cry even harder, but now he’s laughing at the same time. He thinks he might choke. 

They all start chanting, “Do not cry!” and Yonghoon’s laughter starts gaining on the crying. He finally steadies his breathing, wipes his eyes, and tells his band members, “Aw, I hate you all so much. My birthday’s not even for another three days, though?” 

“You love us,” says Giwook, with his trademark grin. “And we wanted it to be real surprise. You know we’ve got lessons all day on your actual birthday.”

“You’re right.” Yonghoon reaches out to grab a sputtering Giwook and traps the bassist in a tight hug. “I love you all, especially you, our little babybean.” He gives his squirming bandmate a final squeeze before releasing him back to freedom. He looks at his band members and feels a surge of affection for them, then scans the rest of the room.

And there, next to a laughing Gunmin, is Kim Youngjo, wearing a black and yellow long-sleeved tee and a black bucket hat, sporting twinkles in his eyes. He looks… perfect. _Goldilocks._ Yonghoon doesn’t even care if he’s staring any more.

He vaguely hears Harin telling someone, “Yeah, he didn’t even question why I would be out of the house so early! And he’d even said we didn’t have anything on the schedule today! But I guess he was pretty out of it.” Great, now he’ll never live down how drunk he got at that silly welcome party. He sighs, then smiles at Youngjo – just a tiny smile, accompanied by a tiny shrug. 

“Want some cake, hyung?” asks Hyungu.

Yonghoon looks away from a now-grinning Youngjo and turns to look where Hyungu is pointing – at a beautiful, fruit-covered cake next to the signed poster. “I’m supposed to be dieting, but yeah, let’s do this!” He supposes he hasn’t really eaten much all day, anyway. 

By the grace of his acting classes and sheer emotional exhaustion, he manages to spend the next hour mingling with his bandmates and the trainees without spending every second staring at his crush. Still, he feels Youngjo’s presence – literally feels it in his body: a prickling underneath his skin whenever he hears that golden laugh, a faint flutter just above his stomach when he catches a yellow and black sleeve in his peripheral vision.

The chatter finally dies down a bit, and the chopstick-pecked birthday cake looks like, well, like there’s not enough left to be worth saving for later. 

Everybody starts gathering the decorations and helping to clean up, and Yonghoon is smoothing out the poster on the table, to read any messages he might have missed at first glance. Suddenly the yellow and black sleeve is on top of Yonghoon’s arm, and a smooth pale hand is reaching across his own to pick up a stray marker on the table. 

Yonghoon resists the urge to latch onto Youngjo’s hand, instead turning his head just slightly, to look into those deep bedroom eyes.

“I’ve considered your suggestion.” he says.

“Oh?” asks Youngjo, picture of casual innocence. 

“And I’ve decided that I’m not really good with the whole pretending thing.” 

But before their conversation can continue, Hwanwoong has joined them, chatting excitedly about voice lessons, and how he’s so, so excited to maybe learn from Yonghoon. He’s heard that Yonghoon is a very talented vocalist but hasn’t really had a chance to listen to him sing, he confesses. 

Yonghoon and Youngjo share a glance over Hwanwoong’s head and then nod along with Hwanwoong, murmuring agreement at the socially appropriate junctures. Yes, absolutely, vocal lessons, yes, for sure. Probably a different perspective from either Keonhee or Gunmin, yes, quite right.

“Anyway, happy early birthday, hyung!” says Hwanwoong. “Ready to go?” he asks Youngjo.

“Yeah, yeah, just let me get my bag.”

Hwanwoong turns to Yonghoon and grins. “Youngjo-hyung is more fashionable than the rest of us. Lucky for us that he has this awesome messenger bag, big enough to fit lots of party supplies.”

For some reason, Yonghoon’s imagination conjures an image of Youngjo strutting down a catwalk, fashionable bag slung diagonally across a perfectly proportioned torso. 

He really would glide down a runway, wouldn’t he? _Like a cat._

And suddenly, with this realization – this absolute certainty that Youngjo is the most feline, sexy human he has ever met – Yonghoon feels just the tiniest bit faint again. Before he gets even woozier, he gathers up the other members of MAS. They say their goodbyes and head out of the building.

_____ 

It’s his first night in his new bed, following the little Vitamin Purple and subsequent sleeping-on-the-sofa fracas, and Yonghoon is afraid that his spinning thoughts will keep him awake for hours. But his head touches a fresh new pillowcase, his sheets are soft and gentle in the summer warmth, and he sinks quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_____ 

He wakes up in the cool, quiet morning stillness with a mind renewed. He is crisp, fresh, and utterly focused on one thing: getting Youngjo alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be a few days away, as real life takes precedence again for a tiny bit. Never fear! This is a planned interruption of service. 
> 
> Thank you for your understanding!


	8. Chapter 8

It should be easy. It should be so easy. The idol trainees and the members of MAS all swapped phone numbers earlier in the summer, and all Yonghoon has to do is send one quick little text. 

And speaking of summer, the weather is amazing. “How about we go hang out by the Han River?” would be a great suggestion, right? 

This all seemed so clear earlier, talking to himself in the quiet comfort of his bed. Now that Yonghoon’s had breakfast and holds his phone in his fidgeting fingers, it seems a little less straightforward.

He could go the bold route: “I am ready to suck your perfect fucking face.” Ha! As soon as that wild idea occurs to him, just thinking about it makes Yonghoon blush furiously and laugh out loud. 

Yonghoon is sitting on the other end of the sofa from Giwook, who looks at him with wide eyes. “You have the weirdest look on your face, hyung. Do I even want to know?” 

“Nope,” says Yonghoon, making sure to angle his phone even farther out of view. 

Giwook continues to look mildly concerned but goes back to his latest smartphone game. For a moment, Yonghoon is distracted by Giwook’s trademark side-eye; the kid frequently doesn’t turn his head to look at people so much as swivel his eyes, and it makes him look like the absolute most skeptical little gopher. Yonghoon thinks it’s one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen. He momentarily considers tackling Giwook and shouting “Mandatory affection!” – which he knows will also bring at least Hyungu and Dongmyeong out of their rooms to join the cuddle attack. Mandatory affection time is one of those MAS traditions they all hold dear and have somehow agreed never to disclose to outsiders.

Still, right exactly now – fingers idly opening, closing, and re-opening the chat app on his phone – Yonghoon suspects he’s just procrastinating out of fear. Is he afraid? Wait – is he angry? He rolls around in his head the conversation he had with Youngjo that time in the company café. But no, he’s not angry… though if he keeps procrastinating about contacting his crush, he knows future Yonghoon is going to be real goddamn angry with the Yonghoon of right now.

Okay, well, what about something simple? “What are you up to? Wanna hang out?” That should work, right? Yonghoon doesn’t think the trainees have anything on their agenda today, given how often Gunmin keeps dropping by to whine at Hyungu about needing more reading materials. Those two are on some weird sci-fi kick lately. But it also sounds so generic. So… basic. And Yonghoon doesn’t want to come off as basic.

“Yonghoon-hyung, will you stop jiggling the sofa?” Giwook looks exasperated. Yonghoon hadn’t even noticed his nervous leg bouncing on their small sofa, but yes, fair. He can see how that would be annoying. “What is up with you, anyway?” 

“Nothing, I’m just… just thinking about how the agency suggested we go on that reality show.” 

“Bullshit! Is this about some girl? God, hyung, when did you even have time to meet anybody? I feel like all we do is hang out with company people nowadays. Trust you to sneak out somehow to meet up with chicks. You probably just swiped right on Tinder or something. You’re so predictable,” scoffs Giwook. 

“I can assure you,” says Yonghoon, standing from the sofa, “that this is not about some girl.” 

Giwook pauses and – there it is again! – gives him the most ferocious side-eye. “Okay. I mean, look, I’m all too happy for you to not talk about it. But you’re acting weird, hyung.” 

“I am not!” Yonghoon feels his face flushing as he shakes his head vigorously. Argh, why can he not have a poker face? But Yonghoon knows that for his whole life, every emotion crossing his mind has been broadcast in bold colors to the world at large. “I’m going to go get some fresh air. I’ve got my phone on me if you need anything, okay?” 

“Feel better!” says Giwook, with a slight smirk. 

“I don’t feel bad! I feel normal! Totally normal,” Yonghoon insists, aware that he’s protesting too much. But what’s he going to say?! _“Hey, kiddo, I figured out in the last 72 hours that I have the hots for Kim Youngjo, and I can’t stop thinking about his infuriatingly perfect face…?”_

Nope! Big ol’ nope. He’s not even sure if the rest of MAS know that he’s queer. It just hasn’t come up, somehow. It’s only been a few months since Dongmyeong, following gentle questioning from the rest of the band, came out to his family and friends.

Anyway, maybe Youngjo was only teasing. Maybe he was just toying with Yonghoon because he was drunk. It didn’t feel like it at the time, but… who knows? This all might not go anywhere. 

For all the other MAS members call Yonghoon an old man, right now he seriously feels like he’s back in high school. No, middle school. By high school, Yonghoon was utterly focused on music, devoting every waking moment to the pursuit of a singing career. Middle school, that’s what this is. Clumsy, unsure, and yes… a little afraid.

He grabs his keys, tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and slips on his newest Vans. He pauses by the small mirror they have next to the door and rearranges his hair slightly. No sense in looking schlubby, right? He might run into someone in the hallway of the apartment building. A certain someone. A certain feline, just-right someone. 

The elevator arrives at the landing, and Yonghoon steps inside, then presses the ground floor button. 

Before the doors can close, though, without even realizing what he’s doing, Yonghoon leaps back out of the elevator into the hallway. He watches the elevator doors close and hears it rumbling gently down the building. 

Yonghoon turns back toward the entrances to both apartments and takes a deep breath. He knocks on the trainee apartment door, and – after several agonizing seconds – Hwanwoong answers. “Yonghoon-hyung! What’s up?”

“Hey, Hwanwoong! Is Youngjo here?” 

Hwanwoong cocks his head slightly and says, “Yeah, you want to talk to him?” He opens the door and motions Yonghoon to come inside. Yonghoon stands in the entryway for a second, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. He hears muffled chatter and then Youngjo appears, hair slightly rumpled and wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. Mickey Mouse? Mr. Cool and Suave is wearing a Mickey Mouse tee? Stranger yet, even in the Mickey Mouse tee, he looks… hot. VERY hot. The messy hair is not helping Yonghoon’s blood pressure. _GOLDILOCKS._

“Oh, good. I’m almost ready. Keep your shoes on,” he tells Yonghoon, who blinks for a second – long enough for Youngjo to turn to Hwanwoong and say, “Yeah, I’ll be back by dinner! Tell manager-nim, okay?” Hwanwoong shrugs and agrees. 

“Hi,” breathes Youngjo, bending down next to Yonghoon in the crowded, shoe-filled entry to the apartment. He grabs distressed sneakers – do they have hand-drawn designs on them? Sure looks like it – and holds the door open for Yonghoon. 

The door to the apartment closes behind them. “Hi,” says Yonghoon, keeping his voice low. “I…”

“No, come here,” says Youngjo, taking Yonghoon by the elbow. He steers him down the corridor and into the corner of the landing, next to the elevator. Yonghoon’s back is against the wall by the time Youngjo lets go of his elbow. 

“If you had just… come inside to hang out and talk to me, in front of everyone, I would have died,” says Youngjo, face inches from Yonghoon’s. “Just hanging out and… pretending…? It turns out I’m not good at pretending, really, either.”

Yonghoon reaches one slim finger to Youngjo’s jawline and touches it delicately. Youngjo’s skin is softer than he’d expected. Youngjo closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

“Okay,” says Yonghoon. He leans down to close the distance between them and kisses Youngjo’s closed eyelid, right on the outer corner. _Those beautiful bedroom eyes._ He smells Youngjo’s shampoo – something a little woodsy, a little herbal. He reaches his other hand to Youngjo’s face and cups his jawline with both hands, resting his thumbs on those perfectly heart-shaped lips. He kisses the outer corner of Youngjo’s other closed eyelid. For balance. 

Yonghoon shifts his attention to the tip of Youngjo’s nose and rests a slow kiss against it, lingering softly as he tries to memorize the sensation of Youngjo’s skin against his lips. Youngjo puts his hands on Yonghoon’s hips, and Yonghoon feels Youngjo’s thumbs through his thin tee, catching on the ridge of his jean waistband.

Yonghoon moves his hands to the back of Youngjo’s head, feeling the trainee’s soft, rumpled hair between his fingers. Only when Youngjo finally exhales does Yonghoon realize he’s been holding his breath. 

Youngjo opens his eyes, only to flutter them closed again quickly as he kisses Yonghoon, soft lips against Yonghoon’s slightly chapped mouth. They pause, like this, neither deepening the kiss, nor pulling away, just relishing the contact and synchronized breathing, blind to anything beyond their bubble. Yonghoon curls his fingers into Youngjo’s hair and feels all of his organs plummet. He’s pretty sure time has stopped, and they are floating in space. Nothing else is real; breathing each other in, noses touching, lips softly nuzzled together – this kiss is the only thing that exists. 

Until the elevator door dings. 

They quickly break apart, and Yonghoon feels how flushed he must look. 

The elevator door opens, and Keonhee steps into the hallway. “Perfect timing, awesome!” says Youngjo, walking into the elevator. Yonghoon quickly joins him. They tell Keonhee hi and bye, so sad to be missing him, yes, of course, okay, bye now… Yonghoon waves and smiles.

The elevator doors close, and Yonghoon groans, leaning against the mirrored wall. “Too bad the CCTV in this elevator probably works,” says Youngjo, leaning his head against Yonghoon’s shoulder.

“What?” croaks Yonghoon. “You didn’t seem that concerned on the landing up there.” 

“Oh, that camera’s been busted for weeks. Manager-nim told me.” 

Yonghoon chuckles quietly, still feeling dazed. “Where to now, Goldilocks?” 

“What?!” Youngjo bursts out laughing as the elevator doors open on the ground floor. 

“Never mind.” Yonghoon feels his blood rush to his face even more and decides that if his skin looks the way it feels, some passer-by is going to think he’s having a coronary and call him an ambulance. 

They walk slowly out toward the street. “You know, the agency is setting me up with a small studio for music production. There’s not much in it at the moment, not yet. And it’s seriously tiny.” Youngjo sounds a little… hesitant? Is that possible?

“I accept,” Yonghoon answers the implied question, looking down at Youngjo. They share a smile and turn to walk toward the agency building. It’s a hot day, and Yonghoon isn’t sure how much of the prickle he feels under his skin is due to the sun overhead – and how much is due to the way that Youngjo keeps glancing at him as they walk, looking more feline than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all staying healthy and well - physically, mentally, and emotionally! 
> 
> Writing this story and reading your comments is such an uplifting experience for me. I hope you're all enjoying the ride, too. 💛


	9. Chapter Nine

Of _course_ Youngjo has a little Mickey Mouse figurine sitting on top of one of his studio monitors. Yonghoon looks at the figurine, looks at Youngjo in his Mickey Mouse tee, and laughs so hard he has to reach for the desk chair to steady himself. 

“What?” asks Youngjo. “What is so funny?” His eyes are wide as he tries to figure out why Yonghoon is doubled over, near tears. Unable to speak, Yonghoon gestures vaguely in the direction of the little figurine and at Youngjo himself. 

Finally, Youngjo clocks the small toy as well as the shirt he’s wearing; he gives Yonghoon a gentle whap on the arm. “You jerk. I’ve always loved Mickey.” 

Yonghoon tries to stop laughing; when this proves futile, he settles for releasing the back of the desk chair, clinging to Youngjo for support, instead. He wraps his long limbs around the trainee’s confused frame and breathes in the scent of his herbal shampoo, calming down with every breath. 

He finally settles himself down enough to pull back from the rapper a bit, resting his hands on top of Youngjo’s shoulders. Youngjo looks a bit hurt, and his arms are still by his sides. 

“I’m sorry, I think… I think it’s cute,” says Yonghoon. “Also, some of this might just be nerves.”

Youngjo sighs. “That’s fair. I’d be lying if I said I weren’t feeling any nerves, myself.” He turns to the computer at the desk. “Sit down, let me play us some music.” 

“What, in the only chair? And have you sit in my lap?” Yonghoon asks, smiling so hard his face hurts – but he successfully avoids another laughing fit. 

“I mean, whatever…” Youngjo grins back at him. “No, let’s just sit on the floor.” He pulls his wireless keyboard and mouse down to the floor, to control the music. Yonghoon takes off his glasses and folds them up, setting them neatly on the desk.

Yonghoon has to thread his long legs between the desk and the chair legs to fit in this floorspace. Youngjo leans against him, shoulder to shoulder, and hits _PLAY_ on a track.

A song Yonghoon doesn’t recognize fills the room, beginning with a harmonica and a blues beat. “What is this?” he asks Youngjo. 

Youngjo threads his fingers between Yonghoon’s before answering. “This is Outkast… the track is ‘Idlewild Blue.’” 

It’s nothing Yonghoon would ever have chosen for himself, but somehow it seems perfectly Youngjo. The track plays through without either of them speaking. They let their hands and arms get progressively more entwined, and Yonghoon feels himself get taken in by the groove, humming a harmony instinctively under his breath. When the track ends, Youngjo pulls Yonghoon a bit to the side, unwilling to let go of his arm long enough to be able to click _PLAY_ on another song. 

“What’s this one?” asks Yonghoon as a floaty piano melody comes through the studio monitors, followed by a woman's delicate vocals in what sounds like Russian. It’s totally different from the bluesy song they just heard. “This is… wait, let me get it right. It’s called ‘Zaberi Menya,’ by a Ukrainian musician called Maria Tchaikovskaya,” says Youngjo. 

They listen to track after track like this, getting progressively further entangled as Youngjo DJs for the two of them. When Yonghoon asks him whether he doesn’t just have any playlists he could let run, without babysitting, Youngjo levels his deep, intense eyes at him. “I want to pick everything for you specifically. You’re not the premade playlist type, right?” 

Yonghoon can’t help laughing. He brushes his hair off his face. “When you put it like that…”

Youngjo gives him a Look and, with slightly comedic intensity, hits _PLAY_ on Lee Sang-Eun’s song “Desert.”

Yonghoon’s not sure how exactly they start kissing each other’s bodies; it really is almost an out-of-body experience. He suddenly finds himself both giving and receiving gentle forehead kisses during the sweeter parts of sweeter songs. By the time Marisa Monte is singing “De Mais Ninguém,” Yonghoon is wrapped up in a tangled, floor version of a backhug, and Youngjo is nibbling on his ear. _Just right._ He shivers. Youngjo lifts Yonghoon’s hands to his mouth and presses his lips to them, bending to give the back of one hand several kisses before moving to the other, then repeating the cycle. He finally gives Yonghoon his hands back, and Yonghoon feels the circulation tingling in his fingertips.

Yonghoon swivels to kiss Youngjo fully on the lips, and this time, he’s not afraid to deepen the kiss. He very gently catches Youngjo’s plush lower lip in his teeth, just for a second, and savors the slight murmur he receives in response. Their kisses become more exploratory and fervent, and they make out long enough to forget all about the music. Yonghoon only realizes how quiet it is in the small room when suddenly his stomach rumbles awkwardly loudly. 

They break contact, breathing heavily, and Youngjo’s eyes sparkle with barely-contained laughter. “Did you not eat lunch?” 

“You know…” Yonghoon realizes, “I didn’t. I told Giwook I needed some fresh air and was going on a walk, but instead I… well, that was ages ago now.”

“Okay, as much fun as this is, if MAS’s star vocalist passes out from malnutrition, I’m going to be in trouble. We should get you food.” 

Yonghoon groans dramatically. “If I can even get off this floor. Arghhh. I might be stuck here forever.” 

“You’re only a year older than me, and I haven’t even touched your legs or anything below the waist. Yet. Come on!” Youngjo extends his arms to help Yonghoon up, as the tall singer registers what Youngjo has just said. “You’ve only just moved to this neighborhood, right? I know an excellent place to get soondubu jjigae.” 

Yonghoon takes his glasses from the desk, replaces them on his face, and for the second time today says, “I accept.” 

He prays that the lines of his jeans are neat and socially acceptable, not revealing anything untoward, as they step back into the bright summer sun.

_____ 

The food is awful. Well, maybe not awful, but certainly mediocre. The tofu stew has large chunks of extraordinarily mushy zucchini in it, and even the rice the server unceremoniously plonks down on the table has a strange texture. 

Youngjo picks out the giant zucchini chunks from their shared bowl of stew. “It wasn’t like this the last time I was here!” he tells Yonghoon, trying to keep his voice low. 

“Don’t worry about it! I’m supposed to be dieting, anyway. We’re all supposed to be dieting,” sighs Yonghoon. 

“Really? I mean, so are we, but I thought maybe you guys got a break, as a rock band and all that.”

“You would think! But it turns out no, not really. It’s easy for Dongmyeong and Giwook. They’re both naturally thin, anyway, and Dongmyeong is such a picky eater it’s a miracle he eats enough to stay alive anyway. But for the other three of us, yeah, it’s tough.” 

It’s one of the first real conversations they’ve had about their professional lives, and Yonghoon is surprised to find he doesn’t mind talking about it to an idol trainee. He was so close to pursuing that path, himself. 

Youngjo’s mind must be wandering to similar places, because he says, “It’s crazy to think how similar and yet how different our professional positions are right now. It’s like we’re both in limbo, or like we’re waiting at the same mystical subway platform – only we’re waiting for different trains.” 

Yonghoon stares at Youngjo, who stops poking at the stew long enough to say, “What?” 

“Nothing,” says Yonghoon. He pokes at the strangely texture rice a bit before giggling and giving up. “Hey, you want to walk along the river a bit? It should be getting a little cooler out there, soon.” 

Youngjo nods. “Yeah, I do. That sounds pretty great, actually. I told Hwanwoong I’d be back by dinner, but honestly, with this afternoon meal, it won’t be too much of a big deal if I miss it.” 

_____ 

They walk along the river, stopping to take selcas at a particularly scenic bend – making sure not to capture each other in the frame. A few, well-informed people are aware that MAS has moved agencies, and Youngjo has already attracted some attention as a trainee. The last thing they want to do is attract any additional, unnecessary attention when they’re both new to this agency. 

Youngjo pauses to lean against a railing. “Can I ask you something weird? Or I dunno, something silly.” 

“Sure,” says Yonghoon, joining him at the railing. “Whatever it is can’t be worse than how you saw me looking two nights ago. Ohmygod, why am I even bringing it up again?” He laughs and puts his hand to his forehead, a touch melodramatically. 

“You’re cute,” Youngjo tells him, “even when not, shall we say, running at 100%. But here’s my question… before today, we’d met, what, four times? Five?” 

“Yeah, sounds about right. Run-ins in the agency building, mostly. Nothing major. You weren’t at the official meet ‘n’ greet where the other trainees taught us that little snippet of choreography. Oh, no, Harin…” 

Youngjo laughs his golden laugh. “Harin seems awesome, though.” 

“He is. Hey, why do you ask? About how many times we’ve met.” 

“I guess I’m vain. I just wanted to know why you seemed to pretty quickly feel similarly about me to the way I feel about you.” 

Yonghoon feels his heart give a little _blip_ , then steps back from the railing and looks at Youngjo. “Honestly? I just mostly thought you were hot. Think you’re hot, I mean. But also, I just… I just got a vibe, like you might be the most intriguing person I’ve met in a long time.” 

Youngjo nods and puts one foot on a lower rung of the railing. “I mean,” a half-smirk appears on his face, “I am pretty hot.” 

Yonghoon laughs and pokes the rapper in the side, who immediately squirms away, laughing as well. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” continues Youngjo. 

“I just assume it’s my devastatingly good looks and the fact that I’m the tallest person in the company,” says Yonghoon, grinning from ear to ear. 

But Youngjo steps closer to Yonghoon and fixes his deep, bedroom-eyed gaze at him. “It’s not.” 

Yonghoon cocks his head slightly. “Okay, then. I’ll bite. It’s clearly not my ability to hold my liquor. What is it?” 

“Your voice.” 

Ah. It’s not the first time somebody has declared their crush on Yonghoon due to his voice. But… 

“When did you even have a chance to listen to me sing?” 

Youngjo now looks a bit sheepish. “Remember how I was going to help you move in?” 

“Yeah, and then you bailed, and I didn’t even resent you for it.” Yonghoon smiles. “Jerk.”

“I was stuck in my studio, playing clips of your voice over and over, thinking how creepy you would think I was being, but unable to stop. For hours. It’s like I heard you sing and you were just… latched onto my mind.” 

Yonghoon breathes, just breathes. For several seconds. Finally, he asks, “Where did you even find that many clips of my singing?” 

“Well, there’s plenty of MAS recordings online, if you know where to look.” 

Yonghoon exhales and then takes Youngjo’s hand, not caring who sees them, just for a moment. He doesn’t respond, and Youngjo doesn’t elaborate. They watch the sun move lower in the sky. 

Yonghoon feels this silence settle comfortably around them - resting, he thinks, in a little peaceful cloud, centered on their linked hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft hours, continued! 😊


	10. Double Digits!

As they approach their building, Yonghoon turns to Youngjo. “What are you telling them when you get home?” 

“Who, the other trainees? I wasn’t planning on telling them anything, honestly.” 

“What, just, like, you were gone with me all day and that’s that?”

“Pretty much! It’s none of their business.”

“They’re not going to question you on it?”

“I mean, what’s there to question? Yonghoon, do you think they tell me every time they hook up with anybody? I don’t even want to know! Don’t tell me everyone in MAS shares all that information.” Yonghoon hesitates. “Wait, really? Do you all?” 

“We’re very close. We’ve just… been through a lot in the last couple of years. We bonded pretty quickly, I guess? It’s hard to explain.” 

They pause on the sidewalk, still warm in the early August evening. Youngjo’s hair is ever-so-slightly tinged by sweat, and small sections of rumpled hair are sticking to his forehead and ears. 

“You can tell them whatever you like. I mean it. But I would really appreciate it if… just…” The rapper sighs, poking one of the strands of hair away from his face. “Well, whatever happens, I need to keep my personal life apart from my training. With you it’s different; everyone in MAS already has their role. With us… who knows? The agency has told us they’re still holding auditions for the boy group. Nobody’s safe.” 

Yonghoon feels a surge of embarrassment and turns his head slightly away. “No, I get it, and I’m aware we’re not… well, we just… I know that kissing somebody for an afternoon doesn’t suddenly mean we’re in a relationship.” 

Youngjo takes a step closer and levels his deep eyes directly at Yonghoon’s. “Do you want to be?” 

Yonghoon inhales sharply. “You are one of the most direct people I have ever met.” 

“I don’t hesitate to let people know how special they are to me, you’re right. So, do you want to be? In a relationship?”

A thousand fragmented thoughts scatter like strobes across Yonghoon’s mind. Secrecy and hiding and kissing and that tiny studio room, and Youngjo’s all-over-the-place musical taste, and those bedroom eyes and heart-shaped lips, and kisses on the backs of his hands, and that goddamn adorable Mickey Mouse tee – which is now faintly, visibly damp in patches, where the summer heat has finally overwhelmed Youngjo’s antiperspirant. 

“Yeah, yeah I… I think I do.” Yonghoon nods, then lets out a small laugh. He feels dazed.

Youngjo theatrically checks for onlookers before quickly crossing the remaining distance between them. He rises up on his toes a bit and sneaks a quick kiss onto Yonghoon’s temple, nudging his glasses slightly off-kilter. He squeezes Yonghoon’s hand. “Tell the MAS guys whatever you like. They are good at keeping secrets, right?” 

Yonghoon’s eyes widen, thinking of how absolutely terrible every single band member is at keeping secrets. It’s why they tell each other everything in the first place. “Well, no. Not even a little bit. Okay, I’ll… figure it out once I get home.” 

Youngjo smiles and tells him, “I trust you. But text me! Let me know what you tell them, so that I know what I’m walking into, okay?” 

“Of course!” Yonghoon feels like he’s going to blow away with the next strong summer breeze.

They maintain a companionable silence as they walk the last few blocks to their building. They get off the elevator, and Yonghoon gives Youngjo a quick shoulder nudge in the direction of the landing corner where they shared their first kiss. Youngjo chuckles, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Okay, keep me posted,” says Youngjo, as they tap in their respective door codes. 

_____ 

Yonghoon slips inside the MAS apartment, hoping that maybe the others have gone out for dinner. Instead, all four of his bandmates are seated around their low table, and they go silent as he walks in, before exploding into questions. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” asks Hyungu. 

“Whoa, I… I said I needed some fresh air!” sputters Yonghoon. 

_“FRESH AIR?!”_ says Harin. “We’ve been calling and texting you for hours!” 

Even Dongmyeong is glaring daggers in Yonghoon’s direction.

“You said you’d have your phone on you!” challenges Giwook.

“And I did! I do!” protests Yonghoon. 

“Did you even check it once? Or were you ignoring us intentionally?” asks Hyungu. 

“I… I didn’t think to check it,” admits Yonghoon. He slips it out of his pocket, as the others continue to talk over each other in their anger. _63 NEW MESSAGES_. That is… that is a little bit kind of a lot. _Oops._

Yonghoon throws his arms up and begs them to stop, for just a second. “Please. Just listen to me. I know I fucked up. Please just listen for a moment.” 

They grumble a moment but then fall silent again, four sets of angry eyes glued to his already warm face. 

Yonghoon walks to the table and sits down. “I need to tell you all something.” Hyungu starts to say something, but Dongmyeong elbows him in the side. “Thanks. Okay. Here goes.”

He takes a deep breath and says, “So I’m seeing someone, I guess.” 

It’s Giwook’s turn to start to sputter something indignantly, and Dongmyeong shoves his other elbow hard into Giwook’s torso. “Ow!” says Giwook, but he then shuts up. 

“I didn’t swipe right on Tinder, Giwook,” says Yonghoon. “I didn’t sneak out to meet girls. I haven’t magically developed some social life outside this company bubble in which we all find ourselves.” 

Hyungu looks like he wants to say something, but he angles his body away from Dongmyeong’s pointy elbows, and he closes his mouth again. 

“I’ve only been seeing this person since… today. Like, just now. I can’t believe I’m already having to tell you all this when my mind hasn’t really wrapped itself around the topic. But here’s the key point: it’s not just about me anymore. This person could get really, really hurt if people find out. You’ll understand why in a second, okay?” 

Dongmyeong raises one eyebrow. Yonghoon laughs at the dramatic gesture and says, “Okay, the silence is getting weird.” 

“You gonna keep being coy, or what?” asks Harin. 

“Yeah,” says Dongmyeong, now with a teasing smirk on his face. “Who’s the lucky guy?” 

“GUY?!” ask the other three, turning to look at Dongmyeong. Yonghoon just laughs.

“Nobody says ‘this person’ that much if they’re not trying to hide the gender of their lover.” Dongmyeong rolls his eyes. “Ask me how I know. Besides, he just said it’s someone in the company, and we haven’t even met the girl trainees yet. What, you all think he’s dating one of MAMAMOO-sunbaenim?! I swear, you all can be so dense.” 

“So is it a guy?! Who the hell are you seeing?” asks Hyungu, wide-eyed – a bewildered, open smile breaking across his face. 

Yonghoon laughs again, then shakes his head and groans a bit. “Okay, I’m serious when I say that any news of this could really hurt him. And maybe us.” 

“We get the point, hyung,” says Harin, softly. 

“Okay. You’re right.” He exhales and settles his shoulders, sitting up straight. “Kim Youngjo asked me to be in a relationship today, and I said yes.” 

“Holy fuck!” says Hyungu. 

Dongmyeong nods approvingly and gives him a teasing thumbs-up. 

Giwook just seems a little shell-shocked, and Harin is quiet, with a thoughtful look on his face. 

“Anyway,” says Yonghoon, tucking his legs to the side, “It’s been a really weird day. Sorry to flake out on checking my phone.” 

“Listen, congratulations on the relationship and everything,” says Hyungu. “But…”

“But we need our leader to be, well, a leader,” finishes Harin. “If we can’t reach you, we have a major issue.” 

“That’s fair,” concedes Yonghoon. “That’s an entirely reasonable thing to expect, and I did wrong. I’m sorry.” The tension in the room palpably dissipates a level or two.

He catches Giwook and Hyungu exchanging a glance. “Did I… did I miss anything, while I wasn’t checking my phone?”

“They’re sending us to that show, hyung,” says Giwook. “Assuming our audition tape gets us that far. There’s going to be a live audition after they comb through all the taped submissions. The details haven’t even been publicized officially yet, but I guess the television station told all of the entertainment agencies in advance, so that they could prepare.” 

_Fuck._

“Okay, so… so we go on this show and we knock it out of the park, right? I know it’s not exactly what we expected when we changed companies, but… but we can think of it as an opportunity. What’s the deal with this one? We can win it, somehow, as a group?” 

Giwook and Hyungu shrug. Harin looks worried. 

“We don’t know, hyung. You now have just as much information as we do,” says Dongmyeong. “Manager-nim called to let us know about two hours ago. He said he’d have more details in a few days.” 

“Alright, fine. So we rehearse, we go to our lessons as usual, and we continue to work on becoming the best musicians we can, right? There’s no sense in worrying about it. We’ll do great!” 

Harin smiles, at last – a small smile, but a genuine one. He clears his throat and says, “See, hyung, this is why we voted you leader. You’re shit at checking your phone, but the enthusiasm… we appreciate it. Well, I do, anyway.” 

Yonghoon laughs with the rest of them.

Harin stands. “Who wants tea? Or soda?” he offers. They call out their various drink orders, and they spend the rest of the evening feeling, Yonghoon decides, like a family again. 

He really, really doesn’t want to let them down. 

_____ 

_**Yonghoon:** I told them. I think they’ve got enough on their minds that they won’t go blabbing._  
_**GoldiJo:** Cool. You doing okay?_  
_**Yonghoon:** Yeah. My mind is a bit of a whirl at the moment_  
_**GoldiJo:** Understandable_  
_**Yonghoon:** They’re sending us to that upcoming reality show_  
_**GoldiJo:** Whoa, seriously?_  
_**Yonghoon:** Yeah. I’ll tell you more later._  
_**GoldiJo:** Sounds good. Get some rest!_  
_**Yonghoon:** You too!_

Yonghoon stares at his phone for a second, then shrugs and sends just one more message.

_**Yonghoon:** xxx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ONEWE Twitter account got verified! 🌸 
> 
> Hooray!


	11. Chapter 11

Yonghoon spends the next two days working at a near-feverish pace with the rest of MAS. Between rehearsal, songwriting, and rearranging material for their upcoming reality show audition, he and the other band members hardly have a moment to breathe. 

As soon as he finally sits down to eat dinner with Dongmyeong and Hyungu, his phone alerts him to a message via a discreet little blink. All of the MAS members tend to have their phones silenced, especially on heavy rehearsal and lesson days.

_**GoldiJo:** Hey, do you have a moment?_  
_**Yonghoon:** Not much of one_ ☹  
_**GoldiJo:** Okay_  
_**Yonghoon:** Why, what’s up?_  
_**GoldiJo:** I kind of just miss you_  
_**Yonghoon:** … and my band members laugh at ME for being sentimental_

Yonghoon smiles at his phone.

_**Yonghoon:** But okay, I kinda miss you too_

“You texting your new boyfriend?” teases Hyungu. “You’re making some really funny faces right now.” 

“Shut up and eat your chicken, Hyungu-yah.”

 _ **GoldiJo:** Want to come over? Everybody else is out getting jokbal_  
_**Yonghoon:** That’s a choice._  
_**GoldiJo:** Are you a food snob?_  
_**Yonghoon:** I ate that regrettably zucchini-filled soondubu jjigae, didn’t I????_  
_**GoldiJo:** Fair_  
_**GoldiJo:** So is that a no on coming over_

Yonghoon looks up from his phone. They’re eating delivered chicken in their new rehearsal space, in the basement of their company’s building. It’s probably late enough that they can call it a night, anyway, and the dorm is only a short walk away.

 _ **Yonghoon:** I’m at work, but I could probably leave here in 5 minutes. That work for you?_  
_**GoldiJo:** Sounds good! I’m pacing by the door already~~ _

What a dork! Who knew he’d be like this?

Yonghoon clears his throat. “I might head out of here after dinner, go to the trainees’ apartment.” 

“You can tell us you’re going to go see Youngjo, hyung,” says Dongmyeong, dimpled smile at full wattage. 

Yonghoon feels a bit silly about his phrasing – almost as if he were lying by omission – but saying, “I’m going to go see my hot new boyfriend in his apartment, All Alone,” seems gratuitously informative, too. Besides, they’ll probably just hang out and watch a movie or something. 

_____ 

Youngjo nearly topples Yonghoon in his eagerness to kiss him hello. He finally releases Yonghoon long enough to ask, “You smell amazing. What is that?” 

“Ummmm… Hermès.” 

“Good thing I didn’t get you perfume. I could just drink you in right now.”

Yonghoon laughs, eyes crinkling. “Why would you have gotten me perfume? We’ve only been together two days!”

As he’s speaking, Youngjo lifts one of Yonghoon’s hands to his mouth and gently nips the skin on the back of the hand, teeth barely pinching the skin. He drops the hand back down and asks, “Did you think I’d forgotten your birthday?” 

“What?! You all had a big party for me! Remember? Mister casually-reaching-across-me-for-a-marker…” 

“No, you need a present. Like a _present_ present.” Youngjo growls out these last few words and suddenly Yonghoon is right there with him, realization dawning. 

“Is this where the cheesy music plays and I ask you what kind of present you had in mind?” 

“No. You’re not dumb. You know perfectly well what I have in mind. The only question is what you, as birthday boy, desire. And I promise to abide by it. Even… even if it’s just watching a movie and giving you a shoulder massage. You kinda look like you need one, to be honest.” 

Yonghoon considers this, smiles, and ruffles his fingers through Youngjo’s hair. “When did the others go to dinner?” 

“I texted you the instant the others closed the door behind them. We have a bit of time. They’re going to some restaurant called The White Bear. I looked it up, and it’s clear across the city, like, almost at the airport. God knows why they picked it.” 

Yonghoon moves his hands to Youngjo’s waist, clasping his fingers together behind his boyfriend’s surprisingly taut back and drawing him in tightly. Youngjo moves his own hands a bit lower on Yonghoon’s body, resting his hands just above the back pockets of the tall singer’s jeans.

“You mean it? I get what I want?” Yonghoon tilts his head coquettishly to the side.

“Don’t you usually?” Youngjo smirks a bit. 

“With everybody except MAS!” Yonghoon shakes his hair off his glasses.

“Good thing I’m not in your band then. But, so…” Youngjo trails off. 

They stare at each other silently for a few beats. Yonghoon finally starts giggling – a nervous reflex to an exceptional situation.

“Was this too sudden? I know you said you don’t mind that I’m direct, but I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I know this is all pretty new.” Now Youngjo’s deep eyes have turned down a bit at the corners, concern evident even as he holds tightly to Yonghoon’s backside.

There’s another pause, and their warm breaths start to align.

“Fuck it,” Yonghoon decides. “How’re your blow job skills?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 12 will be an explicit, adult-content chapter. If you do not wish to read this material, please feel free to skip directly to Chapter 13.**
> 
> Thank you!


	12. Dirty Dozen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT.**
> 
> **Please feel free to skip to the next chapter (Chapter 13) if you wish to avoid explicit adult content.**
> 
> Thank you! 
> 
> * * * * * * *

“How’re your blow job skills?” asks Yonghoon. 

Youngjo grins, and his eyes shift to an intense twinkle. “Rusty.” He looks very, very feline right now.

“We better get you up to fucking speed, then, hadn’t we?” Yonghoon gives Youngjo’s lower back a little fingertip crawl, and Youngjo shivers. 

The dark-eyed trainee takes Yonghoon’s hand and leads him to the sofa. “I’d take you to the bedroom, but dance rehearsal laundry hasn’t been done yet. I assure you it’s safer out here. I want to be able to smell that Hermès on you.”

Yonghoon reaches out to smooth an errant lock of hair behind Youngjo’s ear. _An adorable, just-right errant lock._ “Dirty laundry,” he says. “How romantic.” 

He sits on the sofa, long legs bumping up against the low table, then takes off his glasses and sets them on the table.

Youngjo thinks for a second, then scoots the table slightly back across the floor, giving them a bit more room. He straddles Yonghoon, sitting on his lap with one knee on either side of Yonghoon’s legs.

He cups Yonghoon’s face with his hands for a moment, then drops his hands back down, resting them against his boyfriend’s sides. The rapper sinks a deep, _deep_ kiss onto Yonghoon’s lips, slowly applying increasing pressure on the taller man’s hips with the palms of his hands. His tongue finds the ridge of Yonghoon’s upper front teeth, making the singer gasp.

Yonghoon pulls his face away slightly, then sheepishly says, “I didn’t brush my teeth before coming here. I just popped a breath mint and hoped for the best.”

Youngjo curls his fingertips into Yonghoon’s hips. Hard. “Like I give a fuck,” he says in a delicate, breathless voice, the tone totally in contrast to the power inherent in his body language. “I really like this bit,” he says, rubbing his finger against the waistband of Yonghoon’s jeans. 

“You like my jeans?” 

“No, you goof. I like your waist.” 

“I was about to be really disappointed if you were going to try to suck me off with my jeans still on my body.” 

“Well, we’d better get them off, then, hadn’t we?” Youngjo settles back off the sofa, standing with his feet on either side of Yonghoon’s. His hands – still a surprise to Yonghoon that those hands would be so tender – make quick work of pulling Yonghoon’s jeans to his knees. “Ugh, you’re too tall,” he chuckles, trying to use the available space to get each pant leg completely off Yonghoon’s legs. 

“I’d apologize, but I enjoy being modelesque,” says Yonghoon, now starting to have fun watching Youngjo attempt to disrobe him.

“Modelesque, huh? Well, I’ve always been into fashion. Maybe if the whole idol thing doesn’t work out, I can start a clothing line, and you can model for me. I’m going to need a better look at your canvas, though, so to speak…” 

“You ARE cheesy, aren’t you?” Yonghoon laughs as Youngjo tugs on his boxer-briefs, revealing Yonghoon’s half-hard cock. “I like it. I like you.”

Youngjo pauses and looks up at Yonghoon’s face. “I never did the whole explicit, official confession thing, did I? I mean, neither did you, but still. Jin Yonghoon, I like you. As in… I _like_ you like you.” 

Yonghoon’s laugh resonates throughout the living area. “I kinda figured that out, given that my underwear is around my knees.” 

“Not for long!” Youngjo pulls the boxer-briefs the rest of the way off Yonghoon’s body.

When Yonghoon is finally free of clothing from the waist down, Youngjo carefully rests his warm left hand on the base of Yonghoon’s cock – already somewhat sizeable, even before it’s fully hard. 

He cups that hand slightly, making a little dome, as if to peek underneath. Instead, he gently huffs a breath of hot air against Yonghoon’s cock. Yonghoon immediately responds to his breath, swelling harder. 

Youngjo puts his right hand on Yonghoon’s taint, pushing up gently toward his balls. He huffs another hot breath onto Yonghoon’s shaft and then wraps his left hand deliberately around the quickly-hardening girth.

Yonghoon inhales deeply and flutters his eyes closed. He reopens them just in time to see a half-smile on Youngjo’s face, before those perfect heart-shaped lips settle onto the skin at the base of his cock. Still gently massaging the taint with one hand, Youngjo moves his other hand deftly along Yonghoon’s shaft, lubricating its path with saliva-filled kisses.

 _Holy fuck._

It’s been… a while since Yonghoon has gotten a good blow job, and Youngjo may be rusty, but he is no slouch in this department. _Goldilocks._ Yonghoon almost laughs, but his breath catches in a soft moan.

Youngjo’s lips arrives at the tip of Yonghoon’s cock, and he gives it a quick teasing swirl of a lick before popping his mouth around the whole head, giving it a gentle suck. 

“Jesus fuck, Youngjo,” whispers the singer. 

Youngjo removes his mouth from Yonghoon’s cock long enough to say, “Oh, I’ve heard your voice. I know you can be louder than that.” He quickly sets his mouth back onto his target and starts gliding at a steady rhythm, hand assisting near the base, so that none of Yonghoon’s length is exposed to the air. 

Yonghoon murmurs a wordless agreement and reaches one hand toward Youngjo’s slightly wavy hair. Youngjo takes the cue and starts to increase the pace and intensity of his attentions. He begins humming; Yonghoon moans lightly, releases Youngjo’s hair, and grips the sofa tightly with both hands.

“Wait, stop,” says Yonghoon. 

Youngjo immediately releases the cock from his mouth and leans forward to press it softly between his hand and his shirt, so that none of Yonghoon’s now-damp, sensitive length will be exposed to the air. “You okay?” he asks. 

“I am so much better than okay,” manages Yonghoon. “You are unbelievable. I’m just… does the initial offer still stand?” 

Youngjo’s eyebrows go akilter, and his deep eyes with their blown pupils look many shades of confused. “Of pretending we don’t want to make out?!” 

Yonghoon laughs loudly, cock throbbing against Youngjo’s hand. “No, I think we’re past that. I mean… anything I want, tonight?” 

Youngjo’s face softens. “Anything.” 

“I think… I want more than a blow job.” 

“And what would you like?” Youngjo asks, in a low voice. 

“I’d like…” Yonghoon flicks his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “Do you want to fuck me?” 

Youngjo reaches his head down to administer another kiss to Yonghoon’s warm cock. “Yes,” he answers. “Both in general and in specific – yes. Yes, I want to fuck you.” 

“I didn’t bring anything,” Yonghoon says. “I thought we might… watch a movie or something?” 

Youngjo laughs, his golden chuckle softening his rather feline, intense features. Releasing Yonghoon’s cock at last, he stands and bends to kiss Yonghoon’s forehead. “I wouldn’t have invited you over without at least a little planning. Hang on one second.” 

He disappears to the bedroom, and Yonghoon strokes himself lightly, more like reassuring pets than jacking off. 

Youngjo returns with a bottle of lube and a condom. “You sure?” he asks Yonghoon. “If it’s been a while… I know I said we have time, but we won’t have THAT much time either to get you prepped. This might get a bit rushed.” 

Yonghoon runs a hand through his hair. “I want you real fucking bad. And it’s my birthday. Besides, I’m older than you. We’re doing this.” 

“Ha! You’re going to pull rank on me now? God, you’re lucky you’re beautiful.” Youngjo removes his pants and underwear in one smooth motion. Yonghoon’s eyes widen at the sight of Youngjo’s cock and its… impressive girth. The rapper is already fully hard, clearly turned on by the activities of the past several minutes. 

Yonghoon had sort of felt… outlines… through Youngjo’s clothing, but somehow the magnitude of the situation – and of the cock in question – had not been clear until now.

“Here, try this,” Youngjo says, guiding Yonghoon to rest his forearms on the low table, knees and feet on the floor.

Yonghoon closes his eyes and breathes. He hears the sound of the lube bottle cap, then Youngjo’s voice telling him, “Okay, we’ll start easy.” He feels one of Youngjo’s hands stroking his rear, then one lubed finger gently makes contact flush against his hole.

“You sure you’re good?” checks Youngjo. 

“I swear on my future as a musician that if you don’t stop checking on me, and just fuck me to pieces in the next ten minutes, I will burn this building to the ground.” 

“… Okay. Well, that’s pretty clear.” Youngjo slowly inserts the finger that’s been circling Yonghoon’s hole, bending it and exploring a bit, once Yonghoon’s breaths level out again. 

Yonghoon licks his lips. “Another, Goldilocks.”

“I can’t believe you call me that!” But he inserts another lubed finger, teasing and stretching Yonghoon’s entrance. He finds the tender bundle of nerves that, when prodded a bit, make Yonghoon’s whole body tremble. “Okay, we’re going for a third, here.” 

“I mean, by the looks of you, it seems like I’m going to need it,” says Yonghoon. 

“God, you’re sassy when you’re horny.” Youngjo inserts a third finger. Yonghoon shudders a bit, then tilts his chin back, nearly purring.

Yonghoon hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper and almost feels the sensation in his face; a slight crossing of the sensory wiring in his mind, maybe. Before he can ponder it further, Youngjo taps his hip and is present – _very_ present – at his entrance. He guides himself in slowly, and Yonghoon wants to scream.

Youngjo must catch some whiff of Yonghoon’s thoughts, because as he waits for Yonghoon’s walls to relax against him, he says, “Babe, you are amazing and wonderful, and I love your voice, but I should mention that your voice is also really loud, and there are others in this building.” 

“Please, just… I can be quiet… ish. I am so, so ready.” 

Youngjo moves back out and into Yonghoon, very slowly at first, then a crescendo of thrusts. Yonghoon keeps his word, almost maintaining his cries at a normal indoor level. Youngjo’s voice eventually joins him in a soft, wordless harmony.

“I’m so close,” whispers Yonghoon, sparks and crackles in his eyes and mind. 

“Me… too,” manages Youngjo. “Oh, god.” 

Yonghoon quickly takes hold of his own shaft, near the tip, and tries to match the pace of Youngjo’s now erratic thrusting. He arches his back and comes, all over the side of the low table and the floor beneath it. 

Youngjo lets out a final whine, thrusts a few more times into a now-gasping Yonghoon, and stutters to a halt inside him, shivers rolling through his body and onto Yonghoon. 

Youngjo leans his head down and rests the side of his warm face against Yonghoon’s lower back. It almost feels like… like a hot stone massage, maybe, that warm pressure on his back. 

Youngjo slowly slides out, removes the condom, and ties it off. Yonghoon sits on the floor, head spinning. “What is it with me being totally out of my senses when I sit on the floor in this apartment?” he asks, more to himself than to his lover. 

The rapper laughs, stands up, and kisses Yonghoon. He goes to the kitchen for paper towels, dampening two of them at the sink before returning to his boyfriend. 

“Happy birthday, Yonghoon,” he says, as they clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- eggplant emoji time -


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **End of Explicit Content**
> 
> [for now, anyway]

“Happy birthday, Yonghoon,” he says, as they clean up. 

Yonghoon is fully clothed and ready to go home, across the hallway, but something is missing. He pats his pockets, then realizes… 

“Wait, where did my glasses go?” 

They both look toward the low table. Youngjo sees it first, sharply sucking in his breath. In moving the table back to its original configuration, one of the lenses has been crushed under a table leg. 

“They must have fallen off when we were…” Yonghoon trails off, waving a hand vaguely in the air. 

“When we were fucking. You are so funny.” Youngjo grins, then sighs. “Sorry about your glasses. Not the birthday present I was hoping to give you.” 

“I would not worry about it in the slightest,” says Yonghoon. “I got everything I wished for and more.” 

_____ 

Yonghoon is barely back inside his front door when he faintly hears sounds outside the band’s apartment. The trainees must be back from eating jokbal… weirdos. 

Harin lopes around the corner. “I thought I heard you come in. Did you just say, ‘Weirdos?’” 

“Did I? Out loud? Sorry, my brain-voice filter is probably not operating at the moment.” 

Harin gives Yonghoon a sidelong look. “Alright, hyung.” 

“Oh, I’m going to need new glasses,” says Yonghoon, holding up his broken pair. 

Harin shakes his head. “You know, I don’t even think I want to know.”

Yonghoon descends into giggles, kicking his shoes off haphazardly. “Hey, nobody’s in the shower right now, right?” 

Harin just sighs and shakes his head.

_____ 

The band stays busy the next few weeks, but Yonghoon manages to sneak Youngjo time into his schedule. Apparently the same administrative hold-up preventing the replacement of the CCTV system on the elevator landing means the agency hasn’t yet installed a camera in Youngjo’s studio. Yonghoon occasionally stops to wonder what they’ll do when everything is fixed, but for now, he’s able to put it out of his mind. 

He’s getting very little sleep, and he’s never been happier. 

Youngjo’s own birthday is right around the corner, and he decides a surprise is in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who all caught ONEUS being absolutely fucking adorable on Dancing Idol? Ugh, I die.


	14. Chapter 14 (a fortnight?)

Yonghoon has a secret. It doesn’t even intentionally start out as a secret, though. At first, it’s happenstance; just when Yonghoon thinks to bring it up, the topic changes. That, or he and Youngjo somehow get… distracted. But as the days pass and the moment to talk about the subject never quite crystallizes, Yonghoon realizes he can easily keep from disclosing a certain piece of information to his new boyfriend. 

And this secret – this small, silly piece of information that Yonghoon now withholds from Youngjo – is this: the agency has also given Yonghoon a small studio. It’s little more than a closet, albeit with a fancy reclining chair and a mirror (very necessary) on the wall. But… it’s a studio – a place for Yonghoon to write music, record his ideas and demo tracks, and maybe even occasionally get a short nap in between rehearsals. Not that this last benefit is on the official list of company-approved activities, but Yonghoon’s sure nobody will mind that much. 

Today, in a short break from rehearsal, Yonghoon is eating his lunch in his new studio space. He nearly let the secret slip earlier in the afternoon; just as he was opening the door to the room, he heard the familiar voice of agency trainees traveling through the corridor. He’d barely managed to duck inside and close the door behind him. Youngjo wasn’t with them, but they might have blabbed. It’s hard to tell how close they all are, even as Yonghoon has been spending more time at the trainee apartment. Not too much time, though; he’s cautious of Youngjo’s privacy and career concerns. Discretion has been even harder on Yonghoon than he anticipated. He’s just not the quiet, secret-keeping type.

Now, he doesn’t have much time before he needs to be back in the company basement, rehearsing the cover the band has decided to perform at the live audition for the reality show. They’ve voted on “Kissing Strangers,” and Yonghoon has decided to believe they’re not just poking fun at him.

Yonghoon puts down his cup ramen and adjusts the pop filter on his microphone. Normally he wouldn’t eat right before recording anything, but something in the back of his mind tells him that a little imperfection might actually suit this song. It needs to be a little rough. A little raw. A little… vulnerable. 

A growl of frustration rises up from his throat; he can’t quite get this pet project sounding the way he wants it. The syllables are too unfamiliar, the vowels all wonky. The sound quality in this closet studio also isn’t ideal. He’d use the company’s recording booth, but then people would have questions. Yonghoon does not, for once, want to talk about it. He clears his throat, pokes the dry contact in his eyes (he really needs to remember to get some eyedrops), yanks one side of his headphones off his ear, and tries another take. 

_____ 

The band members are exhausted. On top of their usual rehearsals, they have each been preparing a short demonstration of a solo skill, in dancing, singing, or rapping. The show producers have given the entertainment agencies the heads up that this might come in handy very soon. 

Yonghoon sits in one of the company dance rehearsal rooms and watches Harin struggling with choreography. Hwanwoong is helping him, but dancing is just not Harin’s strength. The drummer looks defeated and miserable, but Hwanwoong’s patience appears endless. 

_Maybe Hwanwoong is a decent guy, after all._

Wait, has Yonghoon been harboring reservations about the dancer? Maybe? Maybe. Maybe just a little. 

But why? He can’t quite pin it down. Hwanwoong has been nothing but friendly to him. 

Yonghoon shakes his head and tries to put the thought far from his mind, focusing instead on how hard Harin is working, just as he does in every other aspect of his life. If Yonghoon could give Harin a gold star sticker every day that he wishes he had Harin’s humble dedication, the drummer would be drowning, gilded head to toe in tiny star-points like some sort of celestially cursed Midas.

_____ 

Youngjo’s birthday arrives, and the trainees invite the members of MAS to join them in a small party at their apartment. Nothing crazy, just cake, video games, and mingling. 

“So, no tattling about my relationship with Youngjo, right?” Yonghoon reminds his bandmates. They all sigh, and Giwook rolls his eyes.

“We’re adults now, hyung,” says Giwook. Hyungu nods.

“It’s like you don’t trust us at all,” adds an indignant Dongmyeong. 

“Just because he’s on _your_ mind all the time doesn’t mean we’re fixated, too,” grumbles Hyungu.

Yonghoon shrugs and says, “Listen, I just know it can be hard. I do trust you.” 

“Sure,” says Harin. “We get it. Okay! Let’s go!” 

_____ 

Yonghoon tries very hard to speak to all of the trainees a roughly equal amount. He really does. Can he help it if some cosmic gravity keeps tugging him back to Youngjo’s side? He’s attempting to focus on a conversation with Gunmin when his expressive hands – he’s always talked with his hands – fly up against the rapper’s button-up flannel shirt. 

He plays a round of Rocket League with a trainee he hasn’t spoken to much and whose name he has forgotten – Youngsang, maybe? – but he can’t focus on the game. Every time something in the game startles him and he jumps, the corner of his eye locates Youngjo watching from across the room, grinning. 

Yonghoon finally decides to hang out by the kitchen with Keonhee, who is nibbling on snacks with a determined ferocity and a thoughtful expression – and no purple punch in sight, thank God. 

“How’s training going, Keonhee?” he asks. “Any updates on when you all might get to debut, or is that a sensitive subject?” He stops himself just in time, about to add that Youngjo never really talks about debuting and seems to avoid the subject. 

Keonhee exhales in a long sigh. “We don’t really know. The company’s not really been clear even on how many people they want in the final lineup. I’m just glad Hwanwoong and I get a break from being on TV. The last round of filming was pretty brutal, and the editing felt so unfair compared to how we lived the experience. I guess Dongmyeong has probably said something similar.” 

“Honestly, he mostly has good things to say about it,” says Yonghoon. “I know he enjoyed getting to know you and the others.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet! I like Myeongie, he’s a real cutie.” They both look over to where Dongmyeong appears to be kicking Hwanwoong’s ass at some video game involving lots of shooting. “I do feel bad for Youngsang, though,” continues Keonhee. “He auditioned for that other show along with Youngjo and Gunmin, but they didn’t pick him.”

“What do you mean?” Yonghoon feels his dry eyes blinking in confusion. Damn, he needs some eyedrops.

“Yeah, that other show that’s filming right around when you MAS people are going to audition for your own competition.”

“Youngjo and Gunmin… are going on a TV show?” 

“Yeah!” repeats Keonhee. “Didn’t Youngjo tell you? I thought you two were getting to be better friends, for some reason.” He shrugs. “I guess it slipped his mind. It starts filming in a few weeks.” 

“He hadn’t mentioned it,” says Yonghoon, suddenly staring across the room at his boyfriend. His secret-keeping, bedroom-eyed, feline, boyfriend. 

_____ 

Late into the evening, the MAS members say their goodbyes and trickle back across the hallway to their own apartment. Dongmyeong, an early riser, can’t stop yawning and calls dibs on first shower before bed.

Yonghoon sits at their table and holds his phone, twirling it in his hands restlessly. Finally, he unlocks it and opens the chat app. 

_**Yonghoon:** Wish I could give you a birthday surprise like the one you got me_  
 _ **GoldiJo:** It’s not a surprise if you tell me about it_  
 _ **GoldiJo:** But I would never turn down this offer. We can key ourselves into the work building… wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shown up there to work on something late at night_  
 _ **Yonghoon:** I could use a walk and some fresh air. Want to walk over together?_  
 _ **GoldiJo:** Sounds great! Meet you at the front of this building?_  
 _ **Yonghoon:**_ 👍

Youngjo meets Yonghoon on the sidewalk outside their building and gives his hand a quick squeeze. “Hey, beautiful.” 

“Hey,” says Yonghoon. 

Youngjo’s eyes immediately shift from feline to something resembling concerned puppy. “You okay?”

Yonghoon squints across the road at the buildings on the other side. Damn his lack of poker face. _And damn these dry contacts, too._

“I’m fine. Happy birthday, Youngjo.” He turns back to Youngjo and smiles. 

“Okay… okay.” Youngjo sighs. “Let’s talk about it when we get there.”

_____ 

They sit on the floor of Youngjo’s studio. Yonghoon has spent enough time here by now that it almost feels like home… usually. Now he feels cagey and tense. Youngjo’s deep eyes are locked on his, intense and searching. 

Yonghoon feels his eyes starting to prickle, and he has never before been so angry at himself for crying so easily. 

Youngjo’s face softens. He settles his shoulders down a bit, reaches for a tissue from the box he keeps on his desk, and hands it wordlessly to Yonghoon. 

“I know you’re going to think I’m being ridiculous,” says Yonghoon. “And I’m so angry at myself for somehow taking attention from you. This day is supposed to be about you! All about you.” 

“But?” 

Yonghoon takes a deep breath. “Were you going to tell me that they’re shipping you off to reality TV?” 

Youngjo closes his eyes and groans. He leans forward, putting his elbows on the floor and resting his forehead in his hands. “I only found out a few days ago. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” he says. 

“It’s just weird. It feels weird to be dating you, and for you not to have told me. Am I being silly?” Yonghoon sniffs deeply until he decides the danger zone of crying has probably passed. “I don’t even know that much about your work life. I don’t have any idea what you were doing until recently, and we haven’t talked much about your plans. Maybe there’s a lot we haven’t covered, and it’s silly to be startled by this, since it’s not like we’ve really talked about… well, there’s just a lot of gaps in what I know about you. I know we kind of… all this happened quickly…” He feels himself rambling and trails off.

Youngjo looks up and fixes his intense eyes on Yonghoon again. “Did I rush you? I don’t want you to feel like we have to be, like, a couple, if all you’re really looking for is a fling or something.” 

Yonghoon reaches a hand out and places it quickly on the rapper’s knee. “No, no! Not at all what I mean! I want to get to know you! I want to know all these things! I want to know why you moved companies, and I want to know when you’re going to be thrown into the lions’ den of reality television. I want to know it all. I want to know you. I want to know why you like Nirvana and Ariana Grande with equal intensity, and why you tear the cuffs on your jackets, and I want to know about your family, and just, everything. But you have to tell me.”

Youngjo stares at Yonghoon and then scoots forward on the floor. He wraps his arms around Yonghoon and kisses him, intensely. He pulls back and says, “I want to know you, too. I get wrapped up in treating you right, but maybe… I could stand to be a bit more open about myself.” He kisses Yonghoon again, lightly this time, then quietly starts massaging one of Yonghoon’s hands.

Yonghoon pleads with his body to not cry, not cry, _not cry._ “Why do I feel like I got the birthday present?”

Youngjo’s eyes go twinkly in an instant, stars lighting the dimness of the studio. “I’m still open to being gifted whatever it was you had in mind.” 

Yonghoon chuckles and stands up, then catches Youngjo’s surprised expression. He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a USB stick. “Voila!” he says.

Youngjo cocks one eyebrow. “You brought… what did you bring? Careful about what you plug into the work computers.” 

Yonghoon laughs again, this time a proper belly laugh. “No, no, it’ll be fine. Here. It’s your birthday surprise.” He finds the USB port, plugs in the stick, and then leans over the keyboard. There’s an awkward second or two before he sheepishly asks, “How do I… how do I play music from this thing on your computer?” 

“Tech’s not your thing, huh?” 

“I use different software, jackass!” 

“I’m just teasing.” Youngjo stands up, clicks on a few commands, and they settle back down onto the floor, heads leaning into each other. 

It takes a few seconds for Yonghoon to deduce any sort of reaction from Youngjo, but when he does…

“Holy shit,” says Youngjo, in the tiniest whisper. “Holy shit.” 

They let the track play the rest of the way through in silence, listening to Yonghoon’s cover of De Mais Ninguém. His soaring voice fills the small space.

They sit in silence for several seconds once the track ends. Finally, Yonghoon clears his throat. “I’m no Marisa Monte… she’s something special. But I just… it’s a beautiful song, and I’m grateful to you for introducing it to me.” 

And for once, it’s not Yonghoon’s turn to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Will I see you all at the online ONEWE concert? Hint: the correct answer is yes. 
> 
> 2\. I would sell a kidney to hear a Yonghoon cover of De Mais Ninguém.


	15. Chapter 15

Today is not a good day to be a MAS member. They’ve all been at each other’s throats for hours, bickering over trivialities. Their taped audition has been accepted, and the live audition is fast approaching. Tensions in the band threaten to bubble over. The MAS members’ individual and collective concerns are reacting to raise the temperature in the basement rehearsal room. They might as well be outdoors in the last of the summer heat, given the beads of sweat running down Harin’s face – and the way Dongmyeong can’t stop fanning his face with his hand. 

Yonghoon is additionally distracted for another reason: Youngjo is leaving for his own reality show tomorrow. 

Giwook and Harin are bickering about the timing of a rhythm, and Yonghoon knows he should step in. That’s what leadership is, right? He should confidently and calmly listen to both of them explain their sides of the dilemma, reassure them that their concerns are valid, and then suggest a compromise or – even better – an out-of-the-box solution, which will resolve both of their concerns and keep the peace.

He should do those things. _Youngjo,_ says his brain. _Youngjo, Youngjo._

_Goldilocks._

Yonghoon hears himself telling them, “You’re both being children. You have ten minutes to figure this shit out while I go make a phone call. If you’re still being dicks by the time I get back, I will shove your drumstick straight up your asshole.” He points at Harin, then at Giwook. “And you, I will take your new fuzzy, leopard-print bass strap, and I will give it to Youngjo as a dog toy for Sunny.” 

“You hate dogs!” says Giwook.

“No, I’m afraid of them. There’s a difference. And it would be by proxy, anyway. I wouldn’t even have to get near him. Besides, apparently Sunny’s a very well-mannered little – wait, you know what? It doesn’t fucking matter. Ten minutes. Got it?” Yonghoon glares at both of them.

He storms out of the rehearsal room and finds his way to the bathroom. Yonghoon enters a stall and closes the door, then leans against it. 

His delicate fingers open the chat app and then close it again. He sighs. _Fuckit._ He dials Youngjo’s phone number. 

“Hello?” says Youngjo’s voice, a little out-of-breath. 

“Hey, sorry to bother you.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to close this suitcase. I’m not sure it’s going to work, even if I get Keonhee to sit on it with me.” 

“Well, he probably weighs as much as a bird. Like, a larger bird, maybe. A prize rooster. Not sure he’ll be much help.” 

“That’s so random. I like it, though. He is kind of birdlike, though he would hate hearing it. Did you know he’s afraid of pigeons?” 

“Seriously?” Yonghoon smiles, imagining the gangly trainee fleeing from the birds. Dogs at least have teeth.

“Seriously. But anyway. What’re you calling about? Not to talk about Keonhee, I’m guessing.” 

“I do like the guy,” says Yonghoon, “But you’re right. Will you have a moment tonight? Can I see you before you go?” 

There’s a pause, then Yonghoon hears the high-pitched sound of an aggressively-yanked zipper, followed by Youngjo’s satisfied grunt. “I’ll find a moment,” says the rapper. “Text me when you’re done with work, okay?” 

“Will do.” 

_____ 

If Yonghoon had hoped that, in his brief absence, Giwook and Harin had resolved their squabble, that hope was clearly unfounded. They’re now standing and yelling over each other’s voices. Dongmyeong has entered the fray, standing next to Giwook and yelling alongside him, one hand on his hip and the other hand gesticulating wildly. Hyungu is nowhere to be seen. Always conflict-averse, he’s probably hiding in some closet, pretending to look for cables.

“Will you all shut the fuck up for just a second?!” Yonghoon is livid.

The three of them turn to look at him. Harin has the good grace to at least look embarrassed. Dongmyeong is flushed red and tosses his hair back. Giwook bites down on his lower lip, but it appears to be more out of barely-controlled rage than shame. 

Now that he has their attention, Yonghoon isn’t sure what to do. Truth be told, dealing with conflict isn’t really his strong point, either. But one thing is clear. 

“We need to get the hell out of this basement. Right now.” 

Fortunately, nobody argues with him. Dongmyeong starts to gather his many bags – how many bags does one human need on a daily basis? – but Yonghoon interrupts him. “No, drop it. We can come back for this shit. Let’s get out of here. RIGHT. NOW.” 

They tail him out of the room like ducklings, all the way past the main administrative corridors, where they wave weakly to a friendly staff member poking her head out of her office. When they’re finally outdoors on the sidewalk, Yonghoon tells Giwook, “Giwookie, text Hyungu. Tell him to meet us at home. We’re having an emergency meeting. Dongmyeong, can you order us some food? Here,” he fishes for his wallet, “Put it on my card. Only, for the love of all that is holy, please order us more than just kimchi jjigae this time.” The two youngest members nod their assent. “Harin, when we get home, will you prepare some tea? Yes, the special kind.” 

Dongmyeong gasps as Harin nods. 

_____ 

The tea in question isn’t even illegal. It’s nothing crazy, just very expensive. It’s an oolong with enhanced GABA – some fancy substance, Yonghoon learned, that soothes nerves and enhances the sensation of calm. Somehow, they’ve acquired a tin of the stuff, and it comes out of hiding on special occasions only. Every family has its secret traditions, and the drinking of the fancy GABA-tea has become more of a symbol than anything else – a ritual the MAS family undertakes when things are very, very stressful. Yonghoon is pretty sure not even Dongju knows about the special tea.

And right now? Right now, things are very, very stressful. 

Hyungu meets them at the apartment about the same time as the food delivery, and they all sit down around their low table. Dongmyeong, bless him, has ordered tteokbokki, fried chicken, and corn cheese. Not exactly healthy, but whatever. The diet can rest for a night. 

Harin ceremonially pours the GABA-oolong, holding his right elbow with his left hand. The band members all take a sip, and the sound of their even breathing helps Yonghoon bring his shoulders away from his ears, just a little bit. 

“We can’t do this,” he finally says. “You all know that. We can’t argue over the dumbest details when we have so much to be thinking about.” He closes his eyes for a bit and remembers Dongmyeong’s jibe a few months ago – how hurt he had felt, but how much he knew it was born only from fear and stress, not any ill will. 

Caring about the other band members is engraved deeply into Yonghoon’s soul, and experiencing friction between them feels like biting down on a 9-volt battery. Sparks through the teeth, acid on the tongue, and the shame of poor decisions being made. Not that Yonghoon would ever have done such a weird thing, growing up. Of course.

He sighs. “You know that if we pass the live audition, we’re not even going to be able to play our instruments, anyway. We have the cover arrangement down. We need to be working on our idol-type skills. Dancing, singing, stage charisma.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” complains Harin. “You have the best chances of any of us here. You sing well, and you even have actual idol training. You’re our frontman for a reason.” 

“I’m not so sure about having the best chances,” says Yonghoon. “Dongmyeong already has a cult following, following the dance move he created and showed off on TV.” 

The MAS members all share glances, remembering “Dongmyeong Gymnastics” and its quirky burst of popularity. Dongmyeong buries his face in his hands. It’s always a little unclear whether he’s ashamed or proud of the popularity of his silly dance move; Yonghoon suspects it’s a little of both. 

“But all that’s besides the point,” continues Yonghoon. “The company wants all of us to go, and that means all of us should try our hardest, right? Harin, you and Hyungu were sixteen, and Giwook, you were all of what, fourteen when you were part of the backing band for Beast? Don’t try to tell me being on stage isn’t in your blood. We all have a shot at this. And more importantly, if even one of us does well, it helps all of us. It helps the agency take us seriously – shows them that we have star power.” 

Hyungu rolls his head dramatically. “Hyung, only you would talk about our star power.” 

“Well, just because I’m the only one talking about it doesn’t mean I’m the only one who has any of it! Your guitar solo is sounding amazing! Just throw all of your energy into your performance at the live audition, really get into it, and you will be a sensation. I just have this gut feeling. It’s going to be memorable.”

Dongmyeong combs his fingers through his hair and laughs, his famous dimple finally making an appearance. “Harin was right. You are good at this whole motivational speech thing.” 

“Awesome. So let’s just quit the bitching and remember why we’re doing this in the first place. For ourselves, for the band, and most of all – for each other. You know I love you all more than anything in this world.” 

“Even more than Youngjo?” Giwook flashes a bit of a cheeky smile, cheekiness enhanced by his inherently off-kilter eyes. 

“Even more than Youngjo, and y’all haven’t even seen his dick.” 

They all groan and shriek, and Hyungu mimes puking into the tteokbokki. “TOO MUCH INFORMATION, hyung!” says Harin, finally. 

“Okay, well, eat up before I ruin your appetites further. I love you so, so much.” 

They eat their dinner, mood mostly improved, though everyone’s still acting a little sensitive. Dongmyeong says, through a mouthful of corn cheese, “I love you too, Yonghoon-hyung. Even when you steal my shampoo.” 

“I would never, pipsqueak.” 

_____ 

Yonghoon meets Youngjo by the river, very close to the spot where they held hands and watched the sunset, only a few weeks ago. Already it feels like much has changed. Yonghoon has learned more about Youngjo’s family, his dog, and even his devastating experiences with two previous agencies. Youngjo’s even disclosed a secret: his old friend from a previous agency has auditioned for their current company, and he’s got a good chance of replacing the other rapper trainee, the one who didn’t get accepted to the competition. 

Still, Yonghoon thinks that they’ve only just begun the deep dive into exploring each other’s pasts and their hopes for the future, and it doesn’t feel fair to be separated so soon. 

“Don’t hook up with any cute guys while you’re there, okay?” says Yonghoon, eyes suspiciously tingly, despite the fact that he’s finally acquired replacement glasses. No more blaming the contacts.

“What if they’re tall and handsome and sound like gods on earth when they sing?” asks Youngjo. 

Yonghoon laughs. “Well, then, that’s fair. How could I blame you? Maybe just, like, use protection.” 

“God, your laugh is beautiful,” says Youngjo, with an intensely loving, deep-eyed smile – a smile that Yonghoon isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to, as if Youngjo were trying to drink in the singer’s appearance. 

“In that case,” says Yonghoon, shaking his hair off his glasses, “He better be tall, handsome, a good singer, _and_ have a beautiful laugh.” 

“Well, that sucks. I think we’ve just crossed the line. Before, it seemed reasonable that I could replace you,” – Yonghoon jabs him in the side – “But now, well, I guess I’m shit out of luck. Better stay faithful after all.”

They sit down on a bench and watch the glimmer of the city lights reflected in the river. They’ve already said what needed to be said, earlier – the injustice of separation, their fears about doing well on their respective shows, and the anxiety of the unknown. They’ve spent the last few days drowning in slow kisses, fast kisses, and so many back hugs that Yonghoon doesn’t know how he’s going to get through a full day without feeling Youngjo’s chin between his shoulder-blades. 

The night air becomes chilly, and Yonghoon can’t resist cuddling up closer to Youngjo. He runs his fingers through the rapper’s hair, relishing the little purring murmur he receives in return for this affection. Not for the first time, Yonghoon thanks his lucky stars that Youngjo is just as needy for physical affection as he is. 

_____ 

They share one last quick kiss in the corridor, right between their apartment doors. It seems appropriate, somehow; this square meter bridging the gap between their homes is the place where they’re used to saying goodbye – the place they always turn from each other, trusting – knowing – that they’ll turn back toward each other again, soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would protect Keonhee from every pigeon.


	16. Chapter 16

Yonghoon feels himself thrown into a whirlwind of impressions, life dissembling itself into so many utterly unfamiliar experiences. Each experience seems crystallized – a shard of stained glass – a bright, powerful punch of color and memory, jagged and sharp, forming an overall picture Yonghoon can’t quite assemble in his mind. 

Shard – blood-red, unclouded:  
Hyungu tripping over his guitar cable at their live audition and thereby unplugging the instrument’s sound – Yonghoon reminding him that, “I told you it would be memorable!” – Hyungu looking like he desperately wants to punch his leader right in the gut

Shard – fuchsia pink, tinges of crimson creeping in on the edges:  
MAS performing silent, desperate choreography in an effort to prove that they belong in this field of professional idol competitors 

Shard – lilac, with pure white edging:  
Getting voted onto the show anyway, each and every member of MAS, when the judges finally decide that there’s just something special, something irreplaceable about these five men – Yonghoon saying “I told you every one of us has a reason to be here!” – Harin looking like’s going to faint, face more apprehensive than Yonghoon has ever before seen

Shard – countless white speckles, spangled like a galaxy over a field of deep charcoal:  
Packing their belongings and stowing their suitcases in the human resources building, awaiting a sinister sorting ceremony in foggy, warehouse lighting – an echoing memory of seeing “Kim Youngjo” written on a luggage tag in large, childlike writing

Shard – a large, shiny, bottle-green shard; a living, stinging beetle of a shard, piercing and painful:  
Having to find team members willing to take a chance on them in the first challenge, which is learning music video choreography – feeling their freshly-won chances nosedive off the cliff of possibility

Shard – a softer, gentler baby-blue pearl:  
A fellow competitor, Daewon – a man built, Yonghoon thinks, of equal parts kindness, talent, and nervous blinking – taking them under his wing and teaching them to dance, one agonizingly unfamiliar motion at a time 

Shard – olive green, somewhat opaque:  
Practicing in their dorm late into the night, learning dance like an unintelligible foreign language, not quite managing to grasp the grammar even after the basic vocabulary sinks in

Shard – bright, sunny, marigold orange-yellow:  
Seeing Dongmyeong slump against the wall in both exhaustion and utter happiness – Yonghoon realizing he’s been right all along: that Dongmyeong has always been the nuclear reactor of energy and spirit that drives MAS as performers 

_____ 

Before Yonghoon can even think to assemble these fragments into a coherent picture, before he can even shape the words “sleep” or “rest” or “questionable life choices” with his mind or mouth, they are all being evaluated on their first challenge. 

Dongmyeong receives recognition – simultaneously effusive and cautious – on his dancing, and Yonghoon feels a pride he can only assume will go unmatched until his firstborn child takes its first steps. The bandmates lean on each other, literally, huddling in one of the dorm rooms and sharing blankets across their laps, feeding off each other’s remaining strength.

It seems unbelievable that their ordeal has only begun.

But then – the inevitable: the MAS members are split up into three different teams. Dongmyeong lands in a sweet, boyfriend-themed team, and Harin is unlucky enough to be assigned to the oldest, least fashionable song (though Yonghoon quietly muses that Harin is indeed a “Perfect Man,” just as the song title suggests). Yonghoon finds himself on the same team with Giwook and Hyungu, all three of them tackling a quirky, energetic number. 

They rehearse until Yonghoon can’t see straight, his mind a blur of choreography and making new social connections. He’s dismayed that Hyungu insists on only taking a very short line in their song – Hyungu can _sing_ , damnit; he’s just too humble to fight for screen time. But the group has detected some potential star quality in Giwook, and they decide to highlight his role. 

_____ 

It’s the night before their performance in front of a live audience. Yonghoon leans his forehead against the cool shower tile and feels the hot water trickling through his hair, against his scalp, behind his ears and down his back. 

_Fuck_ , he misses Youngjo. He’s vaguely aware that Youngjo’s show has started airing, not that he has any time to watch TV. 

Would he even be able to handle that, emotionally? Seeing his boyfriend through a screen, distant and inaccessible?

He groans, turns the knob to make the water even hotter. Finally, he steadies his breathing, rinses off, and within minutes has collapsed into bed. 

_____ 

Shard – confetti candy colors on a translucent base:  
Knowing they’ve done well; Hyungu’s voice – for the few seconds the world gets to hear it – rings true and steady, and Giwook is adorable and charming, and surely, surely he will get the recognition he deserves 

Shard – lurid green-brown, purple undertone:  
Harin is ranked last – and none of the MAS members, except for Dongmyeong, have received more than a few votes from the live audience 

Shard – crackled black, streaked with metal:  
Yonghoon’s team – Yonghoon’s quirky, passionate, unique team, delivering a performance colorful not only in style but in vocals and charisma – landing in last place, of all teams 

_____ 

Logically, Yonghoon understands. This show is as much a popularity contest as anything else. They didn’t come in with many preexisting fans and, aside from Dongmyeong’s breakout moment as a lovable diamond-in-the-rough with an untapped talent for dancing, they’re relying on the mercy of the show’s editors to win over the public. 

He finds Dongmyeong in the cafeteria. Paradoxically, it’s a great place to have an intimate conversation. As long as you don’t _look_ like you’re whispering, the background chatter is so loud that nobody pays attention to any particular conversation happening nearby. 

“I’m proud of you, Myeongie.” 

Dongmyeong flinches, poking forlornly at his noodles. “You all deserved better. I don’t understand.” 

“No, Myeongie, don’t be like that. What is this, survivor’s guilt? We all knew we had slim chances for success. You have no idea how proud we are of you – how proud I am of you.” 

“I…” Dongmyeong swirls a noodle around and around, around and around, drawing an aimless, gloopy circle on his plate. 

Yonghoon sits back against his chair and scrutinizes the keyboardist more closely. “Is there something else going on?” 

Dongmyeong sets his chopsticks down and looks Yonghoon straight in the eye. He pauses, purses his lips, and then says, “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

And suddenly, Yonghoon suspects he knows why Dongmyeong is doubly distressed. A tendril of sympathy reaches out from his heart, crossing the loud cafeteria air, searching for the ache he sees written clear across Dongmyeong’s face. God, it’s fucking hard. It really is. 

_____ 

They get shuffled into new teams, but not everyone will survive eliminations long enough to perform their newly assigned songs. Yonghoon realizes that he, along with Harin, Hyungu, and Giwook are merely going through the motions – living through a stay of execution, trying to behave with as much dignity and dedication as they possibly can. 

It’s one thing he knows they’ve got going for them; nobody in MAS has ever once, for a moment of his life, done anything by halves. To say they work hard is an understatement; their dedication is what landed them here in the first place. 

Sure enough, Hyungu is providing guitar accompaniment for their team’s rehearsals, helping them arrange the song. Yonghoon leads vocal practice, correcting pitches gently and feeling, for once, like the quietly capable leader he’s always wanted to be. The team he and Hyungu are on have chosen to cover Miracles in December, and Yonghoon finds himself pleading to a higher power to issue a real-life miracle in December.

He hears reports of the other three, sorted onto a different team. Giwook is working diligently on improving his vocal skills, and Harin – steadfast Harin – develops a reputation for hard work, earning the respect of the other competitors even as his rank fails to reward his efforts. Yonghoon can’t imagine what it’s like for Dongmyeong, practicing alongside his two friends but knowing their hours are numbered.

The MAS members make a good impression on the other idols; Yonghoon can’t help but notice that. In general, everyone is trying to ally himself with the most popular competitors… but people just _like_ the MAS guys. Yonghoon exchanges phone numbers with as many people as possible, stretching his social butterfly wings. 

And in the bathroom one night, curled up against the sink, he cries, quietly, until he loses all feeling in his feet, hands, and mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep breaths*


	17. Chapter 17

No miracles intervene.

The leader of their team dispenses the elimination envelopes (“And the award goes to…” Yonghoon can’t help thinking), and Hyungu receives his envelope with stoic dignity. 

Yonghoon does not.

Sure, he’s used to crying. He’s just not used to crying while being filmed for national television. To make it worse, the team leader decides they should sing their tear-jerker of a song, together – one last time. Yonghoon’s sweater suddenly feels claustrophobic against his collarbones. His breath, usually so carefully controlled, sears his throat as though it were laced with ammonia. 

“After you left me, I became stronger,” sings Yonghoon, trembling with the sudden fear that yes, his departure will strengthen the team. They’re probably better off without him. 

His mind goes gray and foggy, dense with a mixture of rejection and guilt over his feelings of relief – relief at going home, relief at no longer having to pretend that he, Harin, Hyungu, or Giwook are in it to win it. But he keeps listening and singing – singing and listening – and the imperfect, quavering harmonies settle somewhere in his chest. They warm him slightly – an ember of acceptance, just enough to feel like maybe he has mattered to the group, after all.

By the time he sings the closing line, Yonghoon nurses a hope that it’s all been worth it. It’ll take him a while to tease apart his feelings about this overwhelming set of experiences. But he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he has enriched the lives of the others here, and they have enriched his. 

Their mentor gives the eliminated contestants a farewell pep talk. Amidst the crying, Yonghoon becomes bold enough to raise his hand and thank everybody on the show for giving the band a chance to dance and compete. He receives a heartfelt round of applause and feels reassured that they’ve done well; MAS has left a positive impression. Already, watching Giwook get a warm, personalized send-off from their mentor, Yonghoon feels a sense of closure. 

They’ve been in the competition bubble for weeks – long enough for the weather to change drastically. They’ve spent the Chuseok holidays apart from their families, and Christmas is fast approaching. The real world, a world outside of midnight dance practice and panicked vocal tutoring, awaits.

But not everyone in MAS is coming home. Not quite yet.

_____ 

Both the eliminated and remaining contestants meet outside the main competition building in a frenzy of wailing and embracing. No winter coat is left without tracks of tearstains; no human body is left unhugged.

Their time is limited, of course, and the four eliminated MAS members concentrate their energies encouraging Dongmyeong to do well. They tell him how proud they are of him, reassure him that he’s going to succeed mightily, hug him earnestly, and say all the socially appropriate words… and then – when the cameras are on other huddled masses of crying idols – Yonghoon whispers in Dongmyeong’s ear, “Don’t get too distracted by him. But fuck it, you’re only young once.” 

It’s too dark for him to be sure, but Yonghoon swears the keyboardist is blushing. 

_____ 

The silence in their apartment seems to last for days. Maybe, thinks Yonghoon, they’ve all just gotten so used to the constant level of chaos they experienced on the set of the show that now a normal level of activity feels like silence. 

But no – it really is dramatically quieter. A large part of it is due to the absence of Dongmyeong, so perpetually loud and energetic that his presence ordinarily keeps them ticking, like a human metronome. With him gone, the others perform routine tasks with all the vigor and excitement of oatmeal congealing on a countertop. 

Still, Yonghoon notices Giwook and Hyungu settle into each other in Dongmyeong’s absence. They start to spend more time confiding in each other, and he’s even overheard Hyungu whispering girl-related questions to Giwook. Everyone has always grouped Giwook and Dongmyeong into a sort of unit; they’re the same age and grew up together from an early age, and they’ve been roommates since the band moved in together. It’s easy to forget that they might have grown into very different people. 

Yonghoon envies Giwook and Hyungu their newfound camaraderie. He doesn’t have girl questions – not even a little bit. What he does have, as soon as the cold-water shock of being home has worn off, is an intense, burning, unresolvable horniness. 

He hasn’t even been able to bring himself to watch any of Youngjo’s show, knowing that seeing his feline, charismatic, deep-eyed boyfriend surrounded by other cute and talented young men… well, it can’t end well. Since their separation, they’ve relied on extremely infrequent, delayed-response text messages, when either can sneak off and indulge in some extremely prohibited personal phone use. 

_I miss you._

_I miss you more._

_I wish I were with you._

_I wish you were with me._

_I hope you’re eating well._

_I miss your cute butt._

_I miss your smile._

_I hope you’re doing well._

_I miss hearing your voice._

_I miss you._

_I miss you more._

It’s somehow worse than if they weren’t communicating at all. 

At dinner one night, Yonghoon clears his threat and suggests, “Giwook, do you want to trade beds with me until Dongmyeong gets back?” 

They all look at him. “Why?” asks Giwook, japchae halfway to his mouth. 

“Well, I just thought you might be lonely, what with Dongmyeong gone and all.” 

“Do you just want a room to yourself? You tired of Harin’s snoring?” 

“Hey!” says Harin, but he’s laughing as he indignantly nudges the youngest members upper arm. 

“Well, I _am_ your leader…” 

Hyungu interrupts with a snort, “Won’t your feet hang off Dongmyeong’s bunk? Those beds are shorter than the ones in our room.”

“It’d be fine! But, I mean, you don’t have to say yes. It was just a thought.” Yonghoon drops the subject.

They continue eating. As they’re cleaning up afterward, Giwook approaches Yonghoon and says, “Let’s do it. Just until Dongmyeong gets back. I think he’d be offended if I wanted to swap permanently.” 

“Oh, I definitely don’t think we should swap permanently.” Giwook is right; Dongmyeong would be spectacularly offended if his childhood best friend abandoned their shared room. Besides, Dongmyeong is tidy and an early riser, whereas Yonghoon can admit to being a nocturnal slob. 

But for now… for now, he has a room to himself. 

He spends his nights watching more porn than he ever did in his early teenage years, masturbating furiously in an attempt to ease the physical and emotional ache. 

It doesn’t work. 

But he doesn’t give up trying. 

_____ 

They’ve been home nearly a month, and the idol trainees – the ones who are left, anyway – have started to trickle back across the hallway occasionally, rebuilding the friendships they’d founded before the great reality television exodus decimated the ranks of young musicians living on this floor of the building. 

Youngjo and Gunmin are apparently doing quite well on their show. Yonghoon tries to casually inquire after them as frequently as he can without giving away the depth of his interest. He’s reasonably certain they haven’t yet cottoned onto his real reason for asking. If that’s the case, his old acting instructors owe him an apology and much higher grades than they gave him, because the charade gets harder in Youngjo’s absence, not easier.

Geonhak, a trainee specializing in rapping, has moved into the idol trainee apartment. This is still a secret from the public; he’s on probation, or something. Yonghoon isn’t clear on the details, but it makes sense that newly signed trainees are not immediately announced to the public. 

Yonghoon doesn’t want to pry, so it takes a few weeks for the connection to register: this is THE Geonhak, the talented – and yes, tall and handsome – friend whom Youngjo met at a previous agency. His voice is deep and rumbly, and Yonghoon is a little taken aback, imagining him growing close to Youngjo in the pressure cooker of idol training. Geonhak speaks of Youngjo fondly, unaware no doubt of Yonghoon’s relationship to his friend. He’s a bit reserved, so Yonghoon is startled when, one shared-apartment movie night, Geonhak holds his arms close to his chest and says, “I can’t wait for Youngjo to be back. He means… he means the world to me.” Hwanwoong murmurs his agreement, and – and – is that a _tear_ in Hwanwoong’s eye? 

Yonghoon cuts his eyes back and forth between the two and takes a long, long swig of beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONEWE thought of the day: Dongmyeong and Yonghoon harmonizing spontaneously, yesterday, singing "I believe I can fly!" while Hyungu tried desperately to talk over the two group loudmouths... well, dang. They are all just too endearing. 
> 
> ONEUS thought of the day: A Song Written Easily's promotion era might be over, but nobody can ever take the image of ONEUS in overalls, singing into vegetables, from me!


	18. Chapter 18

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Yonghoon is home with his family. Not MAS, for once, but rather his biological family – his mother, father, and younger brother, Yonghee.

Yonghoon is trying not to feel like an alien in his own home. They’re all being so _nice_ to him, thinking that the tension they detect in his voice and posture might be due to his own career and competition struggles. 

_Yeah, right._

It’s true that the label has leveled some fairly weighty suggestions at the band in the last few weeks, but Yonghoon is mostly managing to avoid thinking too critically about, well, anything related to his own career. It’s safer this way, right? Avoidance works for a lot of people, and Yonghoon is trying it on for size. 

Fortunately for Yonghoon, his own show – with Dongmyeong still competing, week to week – is not airing over New Year’s, so he is spared having to watch it with his family. Unfortunately, Youngjo’s show spares Yonghoon no such mercy, airing on New Year’s Eve like any other Sunday night. 

Yonghoon’s mother – his sweet, understanding mother, who has for years thrown her entire being into supporting her eldest son’s musical dreams – wants to watch Youngjo’s show with her family, and he cannot explain to her why it is impossible for him to watch it. 

_Because I’ll die. Because I’ll see him, and I’ll die. Because he’ll be rapping and dancing and being the most handsome person I’ve ever seen, and I’ll die, and he’ll either be himself, which will be devastating, or putting on a camera-friendly other self, which might somehow be even more devastating, and then I will die, and you will only be left with Yonghee, and God-bless-him I love Yonghee, but everybody knows that he would be completely insufferable if he didn’t have me to keep him in check. And you won’t even know why I’m dying, so you might point out my label-mates on screen, and then I’ll REALLY die. Again. But for real._

“I’m just not in the mood for TV tonight, mom,” he says. 

“We watched every episode of your show, so maybe I kind of got addicted to these types of programs. Don’t be such a downer, Yonghoon! It’ll be fun!” 

“It’s… it’ll be like thinking about work,” he protests. “Can’t I get a few days’ break?” 

“But you’re not even an idol, exactly? These shows are about something totally different from what you usually do— oooh, I don’t mean to rub it in – I… you did so, so well.”

“That’s not the issue, mom. I really just don’t feel like it.”

“Well, I can see how watching yourself, or someone you’re close to, on TV would be weird,” she tells him. “But I think you’d like this other show! It’s done really well. And maybe watching a bit of it will help calm your nerves. You can see other kids going through what you went through, but, you know, from a neutral standpoint. None of your band members are on it, right? Come on, Yonghoon, you’ll like it. Although… there was some drama with a kid from your agency, last week…” She waggles her eyebrows at him in a way that Yonghoon assumes is meant to convey intrigue and excitement, rather than compounding the knot of dread he feels in his stomach. 

Alright. So. His calm mother, whom he has never before known to be addicted to any form of television, reality or otherwise, is now an idol competition show addict. Great. _Perfect._

And worse still, apparently somebody from his company has been involved in some sort of drama? _Please don’t let this be about Youngjo._

“Mom, I… I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m getting a bit of a headache… mind if I go to bed?” 

“Are you okay?” she asks him. “Do you need some ginseng tea?”

Yonghoon can almost hear his younger brother rolling his eyes from the other sofa in their living room, tangerine in hand. “Mom, he’s probably just tired. Let him get some sleep. Who knows how the company’s been treating him? He might never call us anymore…” Yonghee gives his older brother A Look, “but I’ve heard all about those entertainment agencies.” 

“The agency is fine. Fine!” huffs Yonghoon. 

“I am soooo convinced right now,” says Yonghee, popping a tangerine slice into his mouth. 

If he didn’t have a headache before, Yonghoon is definitely developing one now. 

“Good night, everyone,” says Yonghoon. “I will see you all tomorrow.” 

Yonghoon’s father looks up from his number puzzle long enough to give a languid wave, then turns back to his puzzle. His mother sighs. “We know you like to sleep in, but try to be awake in time for breakfast, okay? I’m not convinced you’re eating enough. In fact, I can see that you’re not.”

He gives his mother a quick hug good night, takes the stairs two steps at a time, and closes the door to what used to be his bedroom – but is now decorated as an office and guest room. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, reopens his eyes, and then launches himself, fully clothed and face-down, onto the top of his comforter. 

He’ll get dressed for bed in a moment. Just one moment. 

_____ 

What time is it when he wakes up? Is he too late for breakfast? _What is even… the time, what is time, what–?_

He checks his phone, squinting his eyes desperately against the bright glow of its screen. _3:20 in the morning…?_

Okay. OKAY.

Yonghoon sits up, scrambles for his glasses – where are they? Ah, okay, good, just next to him on top of the comforter, fortunately not crushed in his sleep. He doesn’t need to be buying another pair of glasses so soon. 

He decides to forgo a shower. He puts on pajamas, pads to the bathroom, and washes his face, then brushes his teeth. 

These small rituals usually put him in a bedtime state of mind, but for some reason, he’s more awake now than ever. 

He stares at himself in the small bathroom mirror.

_“Some drama with a kid from your agency, last week…”_

Fuck it, he’s going to watch that fucking show. He’s sure it’ll still be on the TV program recorder, downstairs. 

Yonghoon creeps down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step halfway down. He plugs in a set of headphones, then thinks better of it; he wants to be able to hear anybody approaching. He’ll just keep the volume very low. 

He stretches his arms above his head, pops a joint in his neck, and asks himself whether he’s really about to do this. _Fuckit. Here we go._

He scrolls to the correct program and presses _Play._  
______ 

Why does it have to be an elimination episode, this week? This will be about as much fun as flossing his eyeballs.

But he keeps watching.

Yonghoon finds himself unexpectedly moved by the saga of Gunmin and another trainee from their company – not Youngjo, thankfully. Apparently some drama happened last week, just as his mother said. He doesn’t know the one little dude all that well – the one who apparently messed up badly – but his heart aches for Gunmin, who gets told off repeatedly for being an ineffective team leader and not corralling the kid who messed up. 

And, of course, Yonghoon is absolutely riveted, trying to find any tiny glimpse of Youngjo. Is he not even in this episode? Are the producers doing him dirty, not showing any scenes of his boyfriend at all? The lanky singer shivers broadly every time he catches so much as a fragment of Youngjo’s profile – a profile he’d know anywhere, at 50 paces, from any angle.

Finally – there’s a reaction shot of Youngjo – beautiful, bedroom-eyed Youngjo – nervously licking his lips. Yonghoon stares at the TV, rewinds 5 seconds, and plays it back. He freezes the screen, rewinds it again, and plays back the lip licking. 

“I’m being an idiot,” he tells himself softly. He lets the episode run, then inhales sharply when Youngjo gets a small talking head spot. “I’m a rapper,” Youngjo tells the camera. The show cuts to a short clip of Youngjo rapping on stage, looking – and sounding – amazing. How has Yonghoon never experienced this live, yet? They’re going to have to fix that. 

The show’s edited commentary, on the other hand… the people in charge have deemed Youngjo mediocre. “Out of 400 people, you might be ranked 200,” is one such unflattering comment.

_HOW THE FUCK **DARE** THEY._

He pauses the show long enough to get a handle on his breathing, then hits _Play_ again.

Yonghoon seethes all the way through the rest of the show until the moment of truth – whether Youngjo will be eliminated or not. As soon as he sees that Youngjo is safe, Yonghoon realizes he can’t keep watching any more of this. 

He turns off the television and sits in the dark, tracing patterns into the carpet. 

With a little bit of a laugh at himself, he turns the television back on. He’s just going to play back that little nervous lip lick. One time. Just the once. 

Okay, or maybe twice. 

_____ 

Yonghee wakes him up for breakfast with a shake on the shoulder and a friendly greeting, full of brotherly love. “Hey jerkweed, mom has been looking forward to you being home, for months. Quit being a selfish dick-whippet and get your lazy fucking asshole down to the kitchen to eat before I pour boiling oil into your apparently deaf earballs.” 

Yonghoon groans. “I love you too, little brother.” 

“Save it, shit-for-brains.” 

“Also,” says Yonghoon, “… Dick-whippet? What does that even mean? Earballs?!” 

But Yonghee has already left the room.

Yonghoon gets out of bed and goes down to breakfast. 

It’s a mostly pleasant affair. He does love his family, and now that his mother isn’t talking about reality TV, Yonghoon realizes how much he misses talking to them regularly. 

He finds himself loosening up, bit by bit, between bites of breakfast, and before he can even think about what he’s doing, he lets them in on a secret. 

“We might be changing our name.” 

Both of his parents drop their utensils and stare at their eldest son. “Again?” asks his father. 

“I know, I know,” says Yonghoon. “We thought going from MAS0094 to MAS was going to be the biggest change of our band’s life, you know? We really did.” 

“But…?” prompts his mother. 

“But… they might, well, they just told us they might try and market us as a brother group to the idol group they’re putting together. That means they’d give us matching names, somehow. I dunno, I just… I only found out recently, it’s not set in stone, yet.”

_And I’ve been too busy missing my boyfriend’s cock to even really deal with this information like a grown-up, and I keep pretending it’s not real, because I’m a horrible leader._

“I told you those entertainment agencies are shit,” says Yonghee. 

“Will you quit it? Our label is not shit.” Yonghoon stabs his breakfast angrily. This had all been going so well, too. 

“Then why do you suddenly look like you want to retch?” 

“Yonghee, quit harassing your older brother. Yonghoon, we’re just concerned for you. What will your fans think?” 

And it’s all suddenly too much for Yonghoon. 

God. Fucking. Damnit. 

It’s like all he does is cry these days. 

He wouldn't even mind some Mandatory Affection Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have y'all seen those latest blue-haired CyA selfies? Wow. Go get 'em, Baby Oppa.


	19. Chapter 19

It’s snowing, and Yonghoon is waiting on a train platform to welcome home a man he loves even more than he loves himself. 

Well, _almost,_ of course. 

He stamps his feet in equal parts restless excitement and desire to warm himself. As he runs a hand through his hair, he wishes, shivering, that he’d worn a hat. 

At least the train platform is covered. Snow is beautiful and all, but Yonghoon would rather not chill his scalp any more than necessary. 

Yonghoon is also grateful that he’s not alone. As a large shiver rolls through his body, he reaches one long arm toward an unsuspecting Hyungu and grabs the guitarist, holding him tight in a back hug. 

“Yaaah, hyung, let me go!” whines Hyungu, but he makes no physical effort to escape Yonghoon’s grasp. If this were Giwook, he would be flailing like a mad chicken. Fortunately, Hyungu tends to generate more body heat than the short and wiry bassist, anyway. Yonghoon grins and shnuffles his chin down into Hyungu’s recently lightened hair, smooshing his face back and forth across the protesting guitarist’s head. “You’re so weird,” pouts Hyungu. “And you shut up!” he adds, directing this last bit at Giwook, who is openly pointing and laughing at his bandmate’s misery. 

“Wait, is this his train?” asks Harin. 

“Yeah, I think so,” confirms Dongju, “It’s the same train I took up yesterday. We would have been on this one together today, if I hadn’t had those meetings all day yesterday.” His puffy sleeve is linked around Harin’s arm, and both of them are bouncing unevenly on their toes in the cold. 

A shrieking Dongmyeong comes tumbling out of the train as soon as the doors open. He must’ve been bracing himself, ready to leap, with nose to the door, as the train approached the station. 

They encircle him in a frenzy of hugging and cheering, not caring one bit whether they’re making a spectacle of themselves. 

As they all head to the subway, to trek the last stretch home to their dorm, Dongmyeong flutters his eyes at Yonghoon and says, “You didn’t all have to come get me at the train, you know. It’s not like I’ve made some crazy journey… it’s just Suwon. And I’ll be back for good very soon, you know that.” 

“Well, maybe we were all just excited to see you, for as long as we can.” Yonghoon reaches over and ruffles Dongmyeong’s hair, and the keyboardist squeals a bit, laughing and shrinking away. “I’m still grateful to your parents for letting us have you for a day. It’s such a short break from filming they’re giving you!” 

“Well, from here on out the filming schedule will be a bit sporadic anyway; they’re going to give us half-days here and there. I guess they can cobble together enough footage to make us all appear television-worthy, or whatever.” Dongmyeong laughs his burbly laugh. “Or make me look like some lovesick 12-year-old, from what I hear.” 

“Nobody thinks you look like a lovesick 12-year-old!” says Yonghoon. 

“Yeah!” says Giwook. “You look at least like a lovesick 15-year-old!” 

“Yah!!” Dongmyeong reaches out to whack his roommate on the arm. “Don’t forget I know where you sleep!” 

“Speaking of which, did you get any sleep? Did he let you?” asks Yonghoon. 

“GROSS!” complains Dongju, talking over Dongmyeong’s renewed protests. “La la la not listening!” He plugs his ears with his fingers. 

“Hey,” says Dongmyeong to his brother, “Keep your fingers in your ears a bit!” 

Dongju groans and walks a few meters ahead of the pack. 

“So, like, clearly we have not been fucking,” Dongmyeong tells them. “Are you all insane? There are cameras _everywhere_ in that place.” 

“But?” prompts Harin. 

A grin blossoms across Dongmyeong’s face. “Well… he’s a real good kisser. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.” 

Yonghoon whoops and shakes the small keyboardist back and forth. “See, how could he resist your cuteness?!” 

“Are you all done yet?!” calls Dongju, over his shoulder, struggling to walk in a straight line while looking behind his shoulder. 

“Keep walking up ahead, Ju-yah!” 

“Wait,” asks Hyungu, “So what else? Kissing and what?” 

“Nothing, that’s it. It’s just fun to watch Dongju trying to listen but not listen at the same time, and walk in squiggles all over the place.” 

“I HEARD THAT!” 

“See?” laughs Dongmyeong.

Yonghoon has to stop walking and doubles over, he’s laughing so hard. God, he’s missed this mischievous little fairy. 

_____ 

They’re all safely tucked into a cozy corner of one of their favorite restaurants. The windows are steamy, and Yonghoon cuddles up against Harin for added warmth. It smells amazing, and Yonghoon feels himself relaxing further with every minute they’re here.

Dongmyeong explains to Dongju that they’ve been coming here regularly ever since the band moved into the agency dorm. He points out their favorite menu items and happily greets the owner, who speaks to them using their given names.

“Soon this could be you, too!” Dongmyeong tells his brother. “Moving into the dorm and coming here with us, all the time!” 

Dongju doesn’t look convinced. “It sounds like they’re on a real time crunch. I’m not sure I’d have all that much time to hang out with you, honestly.” 

Dongmyeong’s face falls. “You’d find a way, wouldn’t you, Ju-yah?” 

Dongju makes a noncommittal noise and grabs more meat off the grill. 

Yonghoon for once lets the others do most of the talking, happy to bask in the warmth of familial reunion.

Near the end of the meal, however, Dongmyeong turns to him and asks, “Hey, what about you? Your man’s still away under reality television house arrest, right?” 

“If you mean whether he’s still filming and unable to get home, then yes. It seems like they’re getting even fewer breaks than you are.” 

Dongmyeong nods solemnly. “Wow,” he says. “You hanging in there?” 

“Ah, we’re not here to talk about me!” replies Yonghoon, just as Dongju starts to talk over him. 

“Wait, the guy Yonghoon-hyung is seeing is also on one of these shows?” 

Dongmyeong heaves a melodramatic sigh and shakes his head. “I _told_ you all of this. You just weren’t listening. Yes, Youngjo is on the other show.” 

“Whoa, wait, is this the Youngjo that Hwanwoong and Geonhak were talking about yesterday, when I met the idol trainees? Ohhhh, I hadn’t quite registered… okay. Huh.” He peers thoughtfully at the meat tongs, expression unreadable.

Suddenly the mood at the table is several notches quieter. 

“So,” Yonghoon clears his throat, “The other trainees—” 

“Other? I haven’t officially been signed, yet!” interrupts Dongju. 

“Fine, okay.” Yonghoon clears his throat and puts on his most grown-up voice. “Anyway… the idol trainees who live on our floor… they don’t know yet.” 

“That you’re dating one of them?” Dongju pulls a face as if he were tasting something very questionable. “Why not, hyung?” 

“Well, it could be… complicated, I guess? We don’t want to endanger his position as a trainee.” 

“Are you kidding?” Dongju laughs. “All everyone does is talk about how awesome Kim Youngjo is. Well, they talk up Gunmin, too, though word on the streets is that he’s changing his name to Seoho.” 

“By word on the streets, do you mean… this is just something Keonhee told you yesterday?” asks Harin. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“To be fair, Keonhee is usually right about this sort of thing, even if he gossips a lot,” says Yonghoon. 

Dongju doesn’t pursue the topic any further, but Yonghoon keeps catching his eyes, looking straight at his. He’s pretty sure that the younger twin has lots to say and is just holding back. Well, that’s fine. Yonghoon doesn’t feel the need or desire to explain everything about his relationship and where it stands to this kid, anyway. 

Not that he’s even completely sure where it stands in the first place. Youngjo hasn’t responded to his latest text in several days. 

_____ 

Before they can even breathe, or so it seems, Dongmyeong is off for more filming, sent off in typically restrained and well-behaved MAS style (“Don’t fuck on camera, Myeongie!” _“Eat a dick, Yonghoon-hyung!”_ “Don’t be jealous if I do!”). 

And in what feels like one featherweight blink of an eye later, while sitting in a meeting with company bosses, Yonghoon’s phone silently blinks its discreet text-notification light.

Yonghoon risks a peek.

_**GoldiJo:** Inevitable finally happened. Got voted off. Miss your face. What are you up to, tonight? Might be late, though. I feel like I just got off a roller-coaster, and my head is spinning, so I just don’t even know what to tell you except how much I miss you. I miss your voice and your laughter and your body. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and this is the longest text I’ve ever sent._   
_**GoldiJo:** I really hope you’re free tonight._

Yonghoon looks up from his phone, sees two faces expecting an answer from him, and apologizes. “So sorry, what was that?” 

Fortunately, the company bosses don’t seem to mind his momentarily wandering attention. They’re too excited, eyes alight, showing off the new logos they’ve commissioned. 

One is for MAS – well, the newly re-named and re-branded band formerly known as MAS – the phoenix that will eventually spring forth and conquer the world, or something. Or at least shine on it. In bold letters, the band’s new name: **ONEWE.**

And next to it, for the boy idol group: **ONEUS.**

It’ll be a few more months before the names are announced to the world, but it could have been a lot worse. These are pretty cool, really. Yonghoon has to admit it all looks pretty slick.

He also has to admit that it’s a good thing he’s sitting at this board table, because just thinking about that text is causing distinct changes to the topography of his trousers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, humans! I'm going to have to take another short, scheduled break to take care of IRL stuff. We'll be back on Tuesday! 
> 
> In the meantime, thank you all so, SO much for reading and commenting. I continue to be astonished on a daily basis that there are people following this epic saga of our two oldest WeUs boys. 
> 
> 💕


	20. Chapter 20

Yonghoon adjusts his earring in the mirror next to the front door and lets out a small sigh.

“Hyung,” says Giwook from the sofa, eyes half-hidden under a sweep of newly mint-colored hair. 

Yonghoon looks away from the mirror. “Yeah?” 

“You look great.” 

Yonghoon stares at the young bassist, trying to process the unexpected compliment. He snaps out of his reverie and bounds over to the sofa. “If I didn’t care about messing up my hair or concealer, I would…” Yonghoon wraps his arms around himself and mimes hugging, squeezing, and kissing, with his eyes scrunched closed. 

“Ugh, you’re weird. Forget I said anything!” Giwook is shrinking back into the sofa cushions, expression somewhere between horror and delighted amusement. “But have fun, or something, I guess.” 

“Thank you!” Yonghoon grins and drops his arms back down to his sides. He is genuinely grateful for the support and smiles to himself as he puts on his thickest winter coat.

He walks the incredibly long one (1) meter across the hallway and knocks on the door opposite his own. Youngjo had told him it would be fine, to just go ahead and knock, so… so here he is. 

He waits for what feels like an eternity, pulse thumping rather more assertively than usual in his ears. 

When nobody arrives at the door, Yonghoon listens past his own nervous breathing and realizes that there is… a LOT of noise coming from inside the idol trainee apartment. Maybe they just didn’t hear the knock? That _is_ an unusual amount of high-pitched Keonhee yelling, as well as Hwanwoong’s distinctive donkey-laughter, especially given how late it is… and that must be Geonhak’s loud, deep voice shouting above them all, though Yonghoon can’t quite make out the words.

Just when he’s about to knock again, the door opens so suddenly that a draft of air whooshes by his face. An arm pulls him forcibly inside the trainee apartment, like an old-timey stage hook, and Yonghoon sputters in confusion. 

An arm – a yellow-and-black-striped arm – a yellow-and-black-striped arm belonging to _KIM YOUNGJO, HOLY GOD HE IS **ACTUALLY HOME** don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out_

_And then Youngjo has him wrapped in a bear hug_  
and everything is loud  
until his mind blocks out everything, just absolutely everything on the outside  
but it’s still very loud on the inside:   
a near-shriek of emotion and pounding thought-fragments –   
and there are lots  
and lots  
andlots  
of **colors**  
in his mind. 

He hears a faint echo of Youngjo’s voice calling out past his shoulder – bear hug is still holding strong – “Don’t stay up late, kiddos; I’ll be back when I’m back.” 

There must be some sort of response from the group of young men amassed in the trainee apartment’s living space and entry, not that Yonghoon can process it if there is. All he knows is the woodsy scent of his boyfriend’s hair, the powerful arms wrapped around his waist, the gentle hands pressed securely against his back, and the worn-cotton feel of that striped, long-sleeved tee under his own fingertips. He plays the fabric like piano keys, pressing each centimeter of Youngjo’s back in turn.

Finally Youngjo eases up on the hug, steps back to look in Yonghoon’s eyes – Yonghoon does not, through the grace of every elder god and spirit, pass out – and then reaches up to _kiss Yonghoon gently on the nose._

Youngjo grins at him, clearly expecting a response. Yonghoon finally closes his mouth (when had he even opened it?!) and shakes his head a little – whether to shake his hair back off his glasses or to sort his exploding tangle of thoughts is a little unclear. 

Yonghoon looks around the room, taking in a series of amused but unsurprised faces. His ears seem to click back into regular function, jarred into service by hearing Keonhee’s voice ask, “Wow, hyung, he really didn’t know that we knew about you two, I guess?” 

“Yah, lay off it!” Youngjo says. “Come on, let’s go for a walk and leave these kids to be kids. I just need to grab my coat.” 

“You love us!” says Hwanwoong. 

“I do love you, Woongie!” Youngjo blows the short dancer a kiss. “Bye!” 

Yonghoon’s head is still swirling, and it’s only once they’re standing outside on the sidewalk that the bitterly cold air jolts his brain back to something resembling normalcy. 

“So,” he asks, turning to Youngjo, registering for the first time that his face seems thinner – a tiny bit more worn, maybe. “Where to? It is so much colder than I thought it was going to be tonight. Not really a great night to amble around the Jungnangcheon paths.” 

Youngjo just looks at him silently and almost expressionlessly, until his eyes crinkle into smiles at the corners. He reaches up and – without so much as glancing to check for witnesses – presses a soft, assertive kiss against Yonghoon’s slightly shivering lips, before pulling back and settling both feet flat on the ground again. 

Youngjo exhales gently and starts to speak, but Yonghoon braces his hands against the rapper’s back and leans down for another kiss. Before long, he’s not sure who is the driving force behind the kiss anymore, as their mouths and tongues find each other, teeth occasionally nipping just enough at the other’s lips to assert mutual, small claims on each other’s affections. 

Finally, they break apart long enough for Youngjo to say, “I did think we’d at least make it off the block.” 

Yonghoon glances up at their building and prays he’s imagining the sight of a fluttering curtain on their floor, hastily being drawn closed. He can’t repress a rising peal of laughter. “I tried to ask! Where do you want to go?” 

Youngjo scrunches his lips in thought before saying, “Let’s head to a 24-hour café. If nothing else, they’ll have baked goods. I am _starving_.” 

_____ 

They find a cozy booth in a quiet café. It’s not the fanciest place in the city, with window decals peeling off slightly at the edges – but the wooden floors and brick walls feel warm and welcoming, the hot chocolate has just the right touch of cocoa bitterness, and honestly, Yonghoon would spend the night anywhere if it meant being cuddled up to his boyfriend for the first time in months. 

There aren’t many other patrons, only a few students desperately poring over their coursework, as well as a few bleary-eyed young professionals on laptops. 

Youngjo catches Yonghoon up on the broad strokes of his experience on the show – fairly distressing, it sounds like, though he’s made some friends in the trenches. Yonghoon can relate, though Youngjo’s tour of reality show duty was much longer than his own. 

“Did you watch it?” asks Youngjo, fingering through his hair and checking the results in a mirror on the wall. Yonghoon laughs, remembering the first time they sat awkwardly down together at a café. 

“I watched some of it.” Despite himself, after New Year’s, when he was back at the MAS apartment – no, _ONEWE_ , he’d have to do better about remembering – the ONEWE apartment, Yonghoon had started watching the episodes as they aired. He did so in secret, on his phone, headphones plugged in. He didn’t want to talk about it with any of his bandmates. “You looked real cute in the fuzzy skull sweater and camouflage pants.”

“I nearly stole that outfit to take home, I liked it so much. Glad you did, too.” 

Yonghoon rests his head on Youngjo’s shoulder until the rapper clears his throat. “You know, you could have come to the live stages, to the filming… you could even have voted in the audience, you know?” 

Yonghoon sits back upright. “I could have, sure. Are you kidding? I would have loved to go! But it would have seemed really suspicious, don’t you think? I mean, if not even your fellow trainees are going, and here’s me, holding up a sign with your name on it and trying not to cry when your bad self stomps out onto the stage and all over my heart.” 

Youngjo laughs, golden and soft – and homey, somehow, to the singer’s tired ears. “Fair.”

Yonghoon thinks for a second, then asks, “But since we’re on the topic, did you just, like, get back and say, ‘Hey homies, I’m meeting up with the MAS vocalist my first night back, ’cause we’ve been boning, or at least we were until they shipped me off to this TV show?’” 

His resonant, teasing voice fills the brick-walled space, and one of the students in the café raises wide eyes above her book. Both musicians slink a little lower into the booth.

“No, actually! They brought it up!” Youngjo shakes his head and speaks a little more quietly now. “I got home and was putting my things away, trying to decide how I was going to sneak out to see you, when Geonhak said, ‘You going to go say hi to that tall boyfriend of yours? I met him while you were away.’ I asked how he knew, and he looked at me like I was crazy, said everybody knew. Apparently Dongmyeong let the secret slip before I even went away, the night of my birthday party–” 

“That little shit!” 

“Yeah. So then somehow the topic came up of whether you knew that they knew, but I guess they just played dumb, because they didn’t want you to feel awkward around them.” 

“Huh.”

“Yeah, they’re not bad. Actually,” Youngjo swirls his decaf latte gently in the mug, “They’re some of the best friends I’ve ever had.” 

“Mm.” Yonghoon nods, remembering with a slight inner pang the blown kiss and “Love you!” Youngjo leveled at Hwanwoong, earlier in the evening. 

Youngjo continues. “We’ve talked a bit about Geonhak, but that was so long ago I don’t know if you remember it.” 

“Yeah… it… well. It sounds like both of you had a really rough time of it.” 

Youngjo agrees. “You don’t know the half of it. And honestly, a lot of it’s not my story to tell. If he ever wants to open up enough to share, that’s on him. I’m still a little amazed he trusted me enough to audition again. No, not a little amazed – a lot amazed.” 

Yonghoon rests his chin on Youngjo’s shoulder. “You’re a trustworthy guy.” He buries his nose in his boyfriend’s hair. “Also, you smell amazing.” 

“Oh, no.” Youngjo’s groan sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Don’t start that here. We can’t even go back to my studio. I mean, we can, but I’m sure they’ve long since installed a camera in my absence.” 

Yonghoon sits back and puts his hand on Youngjo’s forearm. “Oh my God, are you ready for a totally awkward but kind of amazing topic change?” 

“Wow! With that kind of introduction, how could I not be?” 

“Just, speaking of cameras and, uh, not exactly speaking of sex but kind of speaking of sex,” Yonghoon drops his voice, eyes cutting to the student who ogled them earlier. “You’ll never guess who Dongmyeong hooked up with. Or is hooking up with? I have no idea. Wait, have you been watching any of it?” 

“Yeah, right! We didn’t have any time or access to TV. Tell me.”

“You know UKISS?”

Youngjo’s deep eyes flare open. “Yeah… of course.” 

“You know Jun from UKISS…?” 

“YOU ARE SHITTING ME!” Youngjo puts both of his hands on Yonghoon’s upper arms. 

The student at the nearby table glares at them. Youngjo makes eye contact with her until she finally turns back to her work with a huff. 

“Well,” clarifies Yonghoon. “I don’t know exactly their status or any of the details, not that I want them, anyway. Not about my Myeongie! But I know they’ve kissed.”

Youngjo laughs, pushing his plate away. “UKISS, Myeong-kiss, Jun-kiss. That is too cute. Isn’t he super tall, too?” 

Yonghoon tosses his hair a bit. “I mean, we’re about the same height.” 

“You are so vain.” Youngjo reaches over to squeeze Yonghoon’s hand, then stands up from the table. “But yeah. Tall, handsome. Dongmyeong and I both have good taste, what can I say?” 

“Well, first thing you can do is tell me where we’re headed. I guess you probably want to get some sleep, right? Do I deliver you safely back to your apartment?” 

Youngjo looks thoughtful. “Honestly, I’m not even sure I know where to go. I am tired, you’re right. But being with you is an energy boost beyond belief. I just need to get away from _some people_ and their _prying eyes._ ” He casts a deep, intense glare in the student’s direction, but she continues looking deliberately at her work, not raising her own eyes to see him. Yonghoon feels a pang of sympathy and relief. She wouldn’t have survived that gaze of Youngjo’s; he’s not sure anybody could.

They’ve got their coats back on and are lingering by the café door, trying to decide what to do. Finally, Yonghoon decides he can’t avoid suggesting the obvious solution any longer. 

“So… until Dongmyeong is back, I’ve got the small room to myself. If… well…” 

Youngjo reaches around Yonghoon to push the door open, then shoves Yonghoon out into the cold night air. “Quick, fool! You have long legs, better put them to some use other than lording them over all the rest of us!” 

_____ 

They get inside the M– _no, ONEWE_ apartment, and thankfully, the others seem to have gone to bed already. Aside from Dongmyeong, they’re all heavily nocturnal, but this is late even for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Is it me, or has there been a surge of popularity for Yo[u]nglove? Yonghoon/Youngjo coming up roses! Clearly, I am 100% here for it. 🥰
> 
> 2\. **Chapter 21 will be an explicit, adult-content chapter. If you do not wish to read this material, please feel free to skip directly to Chapter 22.**
> 
> Thank you!


	21. Dongmyeong's "21" dance cover has nothing to do with this chapter except the number, but you should go watch it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT.**
> 
> **Please feel free to skip to the next chapter (Chapter 22) if you wish to avoid explicit adult content.**
> 
> Thank you! 
> 
> * * * * * * *

Yonghoon shuts the bedroom door softly behind them. “So, there’s one big issue with us being in here,” he whispers. “Giwook and Dongmyeong would kill me if they knew we fucked in their room.” 

“Wait, whose bunk is whose?” 

“What, do you want to be thinking about that?” Yonghoon tries to keep his laughter to a soft giggle.

“No, you’re right, I don’t… although now I can’t help but notice that it’s pretty obvious who sleeps where.”

The top bunk is covered in Pokemon and Adventure Time plushies, with skulls and heavy-metal-style lettering drawn on a paper pinned next to the bunk, on the wall. 

The lower bunk, on the other hand, has a plush Snoopy, some bears, elephants, and other animals, plus a curtain decorated with hand-drawn, cutesy flowers. 

They stare at the bunk beds together for a moment, before Youngjo turns to grin at the tall singer. He says in a stage whisper, “So, wanna pick our poison?” 

Yonghoon grins back. “Payback time, Dongmyeong! Well, that and I don’t want you falling off the top bunk in the middle of the night.”

Youngjo turns to face the bedframe, and Yonghoon envelops him in a back hug. 

“Middle of the morning, at this rate,” says the rapper. “But yeah, okay.” 

By the time Youngjo is finished agreeing to the arrangement, Yonghoon has slid his long fingers under that thin, striped shirt of his boyfriend’s. He places his palms on the front of the rapper’s torso. Youngjo flinches and pulls back, a quick reflexive action. “Sorry!” apologizes Yonghoon. “My hands are cold.” 

“No, it’s… fine.” Youngjo grimaces but places his own hands over the shirt and Yonghoon’s hands underneath, pressing them against his skin with a hissing inhalation. “Might as well warm you up somehow.” Once Yonghoon’s hands are warm enough that he is no longer bracing against their cold touch, Youngjo removes his own hands and faces Yonghoon, deep bedroom eyes glimmering in the dimmed light. 

Yonghoon leans in close enough to feel Youngjo’s warm breath against his neck. “Your breath,” he whispers. He’s nearly woozy with sensory overload. 

“I brush my teeth well!” says the rapper, and Yonghoon doesn’t have the inner resources to clarify.

Youngjo steers Yonghoon to the lower bunk. They sit on the bed, and Youngjo kisses the tall singer’s neck, working his way up from the collar of his shirt to the gentle curve underneath his jawline. 

Yonghoon wants to scream and congratulates himself on keeping his vocalizations to a mere wordless, whining murmur. 

“Good thing these bunks have some clearance above them,” whispers Youngjo. 

“Mm-hrm,” manages Yonghoon, hands finding one of Youngjo’s forearms. He starts to give him a lazy arm, wrist, and hand massage, intensely happy to finally be able to touch his boyfriend again.

Youngjo moves his own attentions to Yonghoon’s ear, mouthing little bite-kisses carefully at the upper edge.

“Did you know that your lips form a perfect heart shape?” asks Yonghoon. “And that you have the most perfect bedroom eyes?” 

The rapper pauses his nibbling long enough to say, “Yes.”

“And that you’re a little… feline? Like, just… a sexy cat.” 

Youngjo pauses – is he being a touch bashful? – then says, “I want to make some sort of purring joke, but my brain isn’t working.”

Yonghoon giggles. “Well, okay. Come here.” He pulls Youngjo down to lie next to him on the bed. 

For a moment, they’re both quiet and wide-eyed – neither speaking nor kissing, just looking into each other’s eyes with what Yonghoon can only think of as reverence. 

“You know,” says the singer finally, “Nobody who saw you in that skull sweater and camo pants, or who heard you rap, would ever know how sickeningly sweet you can be.” 

“Maybe not.” 

They continue to look at each other, long enough that Yonghoon can trace the shadow of every eyelash and memorize exactly the way his boyfriend’s straight eyebrows frame those intense, bedroom eyes. 

“To be fair,” says Youngjo after a moment, “They probably wouldn’t think about me being gay, either.” 

“Are you?” 

“Nah, just indiscriminate.” 

They both laugh out loud, then remember they need to be quiet. “Me too,” admits Yonghoon. “But I figure my other standards are high enough that I don’t need to add gender to the equation, too.” 

Youngjo sits up and turns Yonghoon from lying on his side to resting on his back. “Lucky for you to have met your Goldilocks, right?” he says. 

“You are so cocky!” 

“You love it,” says Youngjo. He undoes Yonghoon’s belt and trouser zipper.

“I do,” admits Yonghoon, as he lifts his hips, for Youngjo to slide the trousers off his legs. 

“Well, good, because I am totally in love with you, and it would suck if you didn’t feel at least a little bit of the same way toward me.” 

Yonghoon feels a little bit of that sensory cross-wiring flit across his face, the woodsy scent now a teal prickling behind his eyes. At least he’s not crying.

“I love you too, Goldilocks.” He tugs at the hem of his boyfriend’s striped shirt. “Did you wear this to taunt me?” 

“A shirt?! No, you beautiful, silly creature. I needed to wear a shirt, because it’s winter and I don’t have the luxury of just living cozily in bed with you all day.” 

“No, _this_ shirt.” Yonghoon finally succeeds in removing the shirt, folding it roughly in half before dropping it onto the floor. 

“I’m so tempted to say yes, but no, I had no idea that shirt taunts you. I’ll be sure to remember that, though.” He pulls off Yonghoon’s own plain gray shirt, then drops down to kiss Yonghoon, bracing himself a bit to hover over the taller man. 

Yonghoon reaches his arms around, embracing and pulling Youngjo down on top of him. He relishes the incredible feeling of Youngjo’s skin making contact with his own, the ever-so-slightly damp chest only turning him on further. He can hardly breathe, caught between kissing his lover, the weight of Youngjo’s body pressing against his own, and the sheer knowledge that… _He’s back._

Their kissing becomes feverish enough that Yonghoon feels he can no longer ignore the weight of Youngjo’s erection, pressing insistently against his own. “Why, oh beautiful Goldilocks of mine, are you still wearing pants?” 

“I was getting around to it!”

“What you need is a real man to do this,” smirks Yonghoon, sitting up and pinning Youngjo to the bed. In one smooth motion, he removes Youngjo’s pants and underwear, revealing his prodigious cock. “Hm…These, too.” He removes one of Youngjo’s socks.

A giggle escapes the heart-shaped lips. “You’re lucky I’m not ticklish. That was not particularly slick.” 

“You’re not ticklish at all? How did I not know this? My turn to say that I’ll be sure to remember that.” Yonghoon removes the other sock, then pauses to contemplate his entirely nude boyfriend. 

“Quit staring; either remove your underwear or let me do it, and come keep me warm!” admonishes Youngjo. 

Yonghoon removes his boxers and lies down, half on top of his boyfriend. He rests one arm next to Youngjo’s head and crosses one long leg on top of Youngjo’s. He then starts kissing Youngjo, beginning at his hairline, pausing to give extra attention to his ears. He runs a line of kisses down his lover’s neck, then traces the outline of his shoulder blade with more. He rests his hand on the rapper’s hip as he trails kisses gently further down Youngjo’s back. “God, you have a nice ass,” he says. “I’m gonna bite it.” 

Which he does. Not too hard, but more than a gummy little nip.

Youngjo lets out a gasp. “I… how do we stay quiet again? I didn’t get that instruction manual.” 

They take turns kissing and biting each other, Yonghoon nearly shrieking when Youngjo lavishes a line of toothy bite-kisses on his upper, inner thigh. 

“Do we…” Youngjo starts, then shakes his head. 

“What? Now’s the time to ask, probably?” Yonghoon caresses Youngjo’s body in long, warm strokes, in renewed disbelief that his unbelievably, heart-searingly handsome boyfriend is back in his arms.

“Do we both have a bit of an oral fetish?” 

“It wouldn’t be the first thing we have in common,” says Yonghoon. “I’ve noticed you licking the corners of your lips a lot, and my band members are always making fun of me for the same habit.”

“We do have at least a thing or two in common. Understatement of the year,” agrees Youngjo. “So… let me do you, first.” 

Yonghoon kisses him by way of agreement. Youngjo breaks the kiss to move his mouth further down, landing his lips at the base of Yonghoon’s erection. 

He gently cups Yonghoon’s balls and licks a soft, teasing swirl at the base, then moves his kissing in expanding concentric circles, finally wrapping his mouth around Yonghoon’s dick. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” whispers Yonghoon. “I’d ask if you’ve been practicing, but I don’t even care what the answer is.” 

Youngjo releases Yonghoon’s dick from his mouth with the softest of little pops. “I haven’t, but I’ve been… thinking about it. A lot. A LOT.” He replaces his mouth and swirls his tongue against the underside of the tip. 

Yonghoon manages, after a sharp intake of breath, to ask, “You’ve been thinking about… about blowing me?” 

Youngjo says, “Mm-hmm,” into Yonghoon’s cock, and the singer gasps in delight, both at the humming sensation and at the knowledge that Youngjo fantasizes about him. 

The rapper calls his tender hands into assistance and begins to work in earnest at getting Yonghoon off. 

Yonghoon somehow, in the back of his mind, retains an awareness that he should be careful of an idol trainee’s throat, and manages to hold back from harshly fucking his boyfriend’s face. He lets Youngjo control the pace entirely. This prolongs the minutes before he comes, and when he finally does, he suddenly has barely any time to warn Youngjo. 

The result is a messy explosion of cum, some of which lands inside Youngjo’s mouth, some of which decorates his face and neck, and a little bit of it defiling the sheets. 

Youngjo laughs as Yonghoon apologizes. “Sorry? Are you kidding me? I’ve never been this hard in my entire fucking life.” He wipes his face with a corner of the sheet, then realizes he’s going to need to clean himself a bit more properly. “Be right back.” He squeezes Yonghoon’s hand, wraps the first article of clothing he grasps from the floor around his midsection, and tiptoes to the bathroom. 

Yonghoon groans and closes his eyes, then feels his mind fluttering sleepily.

As soon as Youngjo is back in bed, Yonghoon says, “My turn.” 

“Don’t you need to take a breather?” Youngjo’s eyes, even through the veil of lust, are as concerned as always for his partner’s wellbeing. 

“No, I would absolutely fall asleep. And I want this. I want _you._ ” Yonghoon reassures his boyfriend. “You’re lucky I have a big mouth and throat and know how to use all of it,” he tells Youngjo, before slowly gliding his lover’s cock, millimeter by millimeter, entirely into his mouth. 

“I…” Youngjo fumbles for words. He moans, high-pitched, before clamping a hand over his mouth. 

Yonghoon squeezes Youngjo’s hand. He pulls back for just a moment before again deep-throating the rapper, tears collecting in his eyes for more reasons than one. He inserts one finger into his mouth, wetting it thoroughly – then uses that finger to gently circle and prod Youngjo’s hole. Using his other hand, he applies counterpressure to the taint. 

In the haze of thoughts, the singer momentarily realizes this probably isn’t what his voice teachers had in mind when teaching him to use his throat to its best abilities. 

Not that it sounds like an increasingly vocal Kim Youngjo minds one bit.

Fortunately for Yonghoon’s singing, Youngjo comes fairly quickly. And comes hard, fists balled up and all but punching out a support column in the bunkbed frame. Yonghoon, true to his word, knows how to use all of his mouth and throat, and swallows every drop. 

Youngjo flings an arm across his eyes and exhales. “Show-off.” 

Yonghoon gently removes Youngjo’s arm from his face, gives him a light, salty kiss, and says, “We should sleep upstairs. I’m too tired to change these sheets.” 

They fall asleep wrapped as much in each other as in the blankets – soft, warm, and breathing well in the coziness of the small upper bunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out my word processor's spell-checking dictionary didn't know the word "deep-throating." 
> 
> *right-click*   
> *Add to Dictionary*


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End of Explicit Content**
> 
> [for now, anyway]

By the fourth time Yonghoon has snuck Youngjo into and out of the ONEWE apartment, he realizes the secret is probably unsustainable. 

There’s been a certain ironic sense of balance to the arrangement, compared to how their relationship began. The idol trainees all know where the eldest among them has been spending his nights, while the ONEWE band members are unaware – Yonghoon is pretty sure they are, anyway. It’s not like he can ask. 

Is it time to have that talk with them?

The final for Dongmyeong’s show is coming up – _Myeongie made it to the final!_ Yonghoon might die of fatherly pride – and it’s possible he might win this whole damn thing. If he does, he’ll be moved into another dorm, to live with the other winners of the show. At that point, Yonghoon’s convenient, very boyfriend-friendly arrangement could last for… months? A year? He has no idea. 

On the other hand, betting odds are currently against the pixie-like keyboardist winning one of the coveted spaces in that group, meaning Yonghoon will have to move back in with Harin and Hyungu soon, regardless. In that case, having this talk will do nothing productive, since by the time Giwook no longer wants to beat him to death with his bass, it’ll be a moot point, anyway. 

Yonghoon picks at his fingernails and tries to decide what to do. He’s sitting in the band’s rehearsal space, alone, for once. 

The agency has decided that they will film pre-debut reality television-type footage of both ONEUS and ONEWE. They have a showcase coming up – “Gemstone” – and it will be the first time both groups are on stage together. Not that the new group names will be announced just quite yet… and Yonghoon’s learned that the company isn’t yet ready to introduce Geonhak and Dongju as members of the idol group. They’ll be watching the show, not participating in it.

Poor Dongmyeong has been shuffling back and forth between filming locations, trying to juggle the final stage of his competition with the in-house reality footage his entertainment agency wants. 

Right now, Hyungu and Giwook are filming little blurbs for the Gemstone show, in addition to some behind-the-scenes footage. Harin is picking up dinner for everyone. 

Yonghoon flops onto the rehearsal space sofa and feels his eyelids immediately go heavy. He’s been a little… well, sleep-deprived of late. Tired, but happy. 

_____ 

Harin wakes him gently, saying, “Yonghoon-hyung, dinner’s here.” 

Yonghoon forces himself awake, sits upright on the sofa, and thanks Harin. As they open lids to food containers, he asks Harin, “Is this enough for everybody?” 

“Oh, Hyungu and Giwook won’t be back for a while. I brought them some of it upstairs.”

Yonghoon and Harin eat in companionable silence for a bit before Harin sets down his bowl and looks at the band leader. “Hyung, are you going to have him over for dinner sometime to get to know the rest of us, or just keep sneaking around?” His voice is soft, but Yonghoon winces. 

“God, I’m so sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry… it’s kinda funny.” 

“I didn’t think we were all that loud,” Yonghoon says, weakly poking at his dinner. 

“You’re not,” says Harin. “You two are pretty vanilla, I take it.” 

“WHAT?!” Yonghoon finds himself… a touch offended? Definitely a bit offended. 

“Well, like…” and now Harin looks indescribably awkward. “It’s just, the walls are thin, and if you were doing anything, like, _real_ exciting…” 

“Harin, I have known you for a long time now, and I just cannot believe what I am hearing. Are you speaking from… you know, experience? Or, uh…”

Harin sighs and shifts his weight in his seat. “Or did I just watch a lot of porn? Yes, I’m speaking from experience.” 

Yonghoon is rendered speechless, mouth agog. 

Harin’s face is deeply colored and he squints at the ceiling, as if waiting for divine intervention to save him from this conversation. 

Yonghoon finally giggles and says, “If you had told me a year ago that I would have my sex life criticized by Ju Harin, I would never have believed you.” 

“I wasn’t criticizing! Just pointing it out.” 

“Pointing what out, hyung?” asks Giwook, as he and Hyungu enter the rehearsal space. 

Yonghoon stretches his long arms, shakes his hair off his glasses, and says, “Harinnie here was just telling me that he doesn’t believe my sex life is exciting enough.” 

“I didn’t say that! I just said that I guess you and Youngjo are pretty vanilla!” Harin’s words tumble out in a desperate rush.

“Whoa, hyung, he called you boring,” says Giwook. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla! For some people,” adds Harin, then immediately whaps a hand over his mouth, as if to take back the words.

“It’s just funny ‘cause you two always try to come off all ‘Mister Sex-bomb’ – but you’re both total cuddle-bunnies, right?” adds Hyungu. 

“I am not going to dignify that with an answer,” huffs Yonghoon. 

Giwook says, “If you want to spice things up, I know where Dongmyeong keeps his—” 

“NO!” the other three yell.

“Okay, you know what?” says Yonghoon. “We are done having this conversation.”

“You’re the one who expanded it, hyung!” protests Harin. 

“Fair, and so I did. And you know what, point taken. I’ll invite him to dinner at home tomorrow, or at some point soon, okay?”

Harin might be nodding, but it’s hard to tell as he’s also busy fanning his face with his hand, cheeks deep burgundy. 

_____ 

Youngjo and Yonghoon start to eat with each other’s groups on a fairly regular basis. This soon gives way to a joint ONEWE-ONEUS dinner, about once a week. 

Giwook, also now in charge of his own pocket-sized music production studio, befriends Youngjo and Geonhak, recruiting them to collaborate on his own indie rap side projects. 

At one joint dinner, Yonghoon pulls Giwook onto his lap and busies himself absolutely covering the bassist in tiny, birdlike little kisses. He looks up to see Youngjo watching from across the room, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face. 

Hugging Giwook to himself closely, Yonghoon decides that life is pretty near perfect. 

_____ 

Yonghoon, Hyungu, and a now bright-pink-haired Giwook go to the live final taping of Dongmyeong’s competition. It’s an elaborate production, very impressive indeed, and Yonghoon hopes the keyboardist realizes what an incredible accomplishment it is to even make it this far. 

Dongmyeong doesn’t win. He has maybe the most expressive face Yonghoon has ever seen; unlike some of the other contestants, he cannot hide his crestfallen feelings. 

Jun of the group UKISS, for months now the most popular competitor, ends up ranked in the very first place – a clear and undisputed winner. Watching Jun hug Dongmyeong after the winning group has been announced, Yonghoon realizes that his bandmate isn’t the saddest person on the stage. 

Afterward, Yonghoon finds Dongju and the twins’ mother in the live audience. Dongju is holding a poster with Dongmyeong’s face on it and looks a bit embarrassed. 

“Dongmyeong did so well!” Yonghoon tells their mother. 

“I know,” she says. “And I’m very proud of him. Still, he’s going to be so relieved to be back home with you all.”

 _I hope so,_ thinks Yonghoon, mind flashing back to the way Jun’s hand cupped the back of Dongmyeong’s head, and the vacant, glazed eyes in the keyboardist’s face as he was herded backstage by the production staff. 

_____ 

_**Yonghoon:** Hey, can we sleep over at your place tonight?_  
_**GoldiJo:** Probably not. You know Manager-nim usually sleeps here_  
_**Yonghoon:** I do_  
_**Yonghoon:** I was just hoping tonight would be an exception_  
_**Yonghoon:** My heart hurts a bit atm_  
_**GoldiJo:** Aw, babe._  
_**GoldiJo:** You want me to get rid of him?_  
_**Yonghoon:** That sounds really ominous_  
_**GoldiJo:** No no no, nothing terrible, he just owes me a favor_  
_**Yonghoon:** That… also sounds really ominous?_  
_**GoldiJo:** Come on over, it’ll be fine_  
_**Yonghoon:** _ ❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Msnake can SUCK IT.
> 
> Doing our boys wrong like that, how dare they?! They have been through **enough.**


	23. Chapter 23

Manager Gwangmin’s presence at the idol trainee apartment is a relatively recent development. The company seems to have decided that, now they’ve fixed the final lineup of six boys who will debut as a boy idol group, they need to be a little more involved in the day-to-day lives of the trainees.

So far, though, he’s been a complete and utter pushover. When the trainees told him that Youngjo sometimes sleeps over at the ONEWE apartment, he barely grunted his unconcerned acknowledgement before looking back at his phone. The details appear not to bother him. In fact, he’s frequently absent from their apartment during downtime from practice or company matters. Both parties seem to have fallen into a bit of an unspoken agreement wherein they don’t question why Manager Gwangmin’s not around, and he in turn doesn’t question the movements of the ONEUS members.

In theory, however, he and Youngjo are supposed to share a room, rendering ONEUS apartment sleepovers risky at best. 

Yonghoon’s not sure what Youngjo meant by “getting rid” of Gwangmin, and his mind goes wild with theories. But in the car back from the taping of the final, head pressed against the glass of the window, he decides he’s simply going to have to trust his boyfriend’s judgment. 

_____ 

Yonghoon briefly says hi to the other trainees before Youngjo leads him to the bedroom, softly shutting the door behind them. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Youngjo, sitting down next to him on the bed. 

“I thought I did, but…” Yonghoon isn’t even sure why he’s here or what he wants from his boyfriend. What he finally settles on is, “You know what? I miss listening to music in your studio.” 

“We can make that happen again!” 

“Can we? You’ve been so busy lately. I mean, so have we, but your schedules are just… overwhelming.” 

Youngjo sighs. “Yeah. It’s getting to be a bit much.” 

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask how you are! I just got really mopey somehow, watching Dongmyeong be so sad, and now it’s all about me. Again.” 

“It’s a bummer he didn’t win… I know he wanted to promote as part of the winning group.” 

“Not even that!” says Yonghoon, waving his hands in agitation. “You didn’t see the look on his face as he had to hug Jun goodbye.” 

Youngjo is quiet for a few beats. “Wow. You really care about him, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do. He’s a little thorn in my side sometimes, and I could really do without his household pranks, but I probably love him more than my own brother. All of my band members, actually.” 

Youngjo sighs. “I know what you mean. I haven’t even known all these guys as long as you’ve known yours, but… sometimes it already feels like I’d give my life for them. I guess Dongju is the one I still don’t quite know. He seems a bit babyish to me sometimes.” 

Yonghoon leans into Youngjo. “He’s a little spitfire, after the initial shyness. I’d watch out, if I were you.” 

Youngjo kisses the singer’s hair. “Noted. Okay, let’s get you to bed. You look like you very much need some sleep.” 

Once they’re cleaned up, with the covers tucked securely over both of them in Youngjo’s narrow bed, Yonghoon starts to fall asleep – before jerking awake with a start. 

“Youngjo?” he asks, eyeing the empty bed on the other side of the room.

“Mm?” 

“What did you mean by ‘getting rid’ of Manager Gwangmin?” 

“I just told him to sleep at his girlfriend’s house, because I was bringing a guest home. He didn’t even blink.” 

“Ohmygod, that’s… way simpler than the scenarios I was imagining.” 

Youngjo kisses Yonghoon’s neck. “Get some sleep, beautiful.” 

And they do. 

_____ 

Soon, the issue of finding private space is rendered moot by the fact that neither Yonghoon nor Youngjo – especially Youngjo – have time to see each other, anyway.

It’s a gradual change at first, but then something shifts, and it quickly feels, to Yonghoon, as if they’ve fallen off a cliff. Forget worrying about being overly vanilla; they hardly snag any alone time at all.

He remembers the separation they endured while Youngjo was on the reality show and tells himself to stop being so clingy, but… that was a physical, discrete separation. This new distance, a distance rooted in scheduling conflicts and lack of time or energy… is it worse? 

It can’t be worse. It can’t possibly be worse. 

Can it? 

_____ 

Winter’s muted colors brighten into the fresh greens, peaches, and yellows of spring – cheerful baby flower-bulbs erupting across the city, followed by cherry blossoms. Yonghoon thinks the city smells of rain and fresh berries. The berry scent might just be in his head, though.

They all, rock band members and idol trainees alike, buckle down on filming more reality show footage for their entertainment agency. At first the company focuses on just the idol trainees; then they incorporate more footage of the band members, also.

Yonghoon’s mind spins as the band prepares for “Sparkling Piece,” the showcase in which they will reveal the new names “ONEWE” and “ONEUS” to the world. 

At some point, staring at his phone, Yonghoon realizes he hasn’t talked to Youngjo privately in over a week.

_Everything is fine,_ he tells himself. _Just fine._

_____ 

They make it through Sparkling Piece more successfully than Yonghoon could have possibly hoped. Has he been a good leader? Is he guiding ONEWE well? Is he guiding them at all? 

The showcase is a cheerful one. Yonghoon puts aside his concerns and gives into the spring feeling of the stage. He’s long since learned that he can’t just fake a mood as a performer; when he’s in front of an audience, he has to step fully, mind and body, into the role at hand.

There is something touching about being on stage with everyone in both groups – a sense that this is _it._ This is the Real Deal, the Realest Fucking Deal… success is possible, and the runway lies straight ahead of them. 

Yonghoon is glad to be singing alongside them all. Maybe this is the way it will always be for him – that singing grounds him, and that singing to an audience recharges his inner spiritual battery in a way nothing else can.

At some point in the Sparkling Piece showcase, he notices Geonhak drifting off to the side a bit, looking a little forlorn.

_No, he’s one of us now. If you’re one of Youngjo’s, you’re one of mine._

Yonghoon reaches out a hand and physically brings Geonhak closer to the group again, not missing a beat of the song they’re singing. 

If they’re going to be brother groups, that makes them all family.

_Family._

_____ 

Backstage immediately after the show, in a dark corner, Yonghoon’s eye catches on motion in the dimness, next to some wooden set pieces. 

_Youngjo!_ He’d know that silhouetted profile anywhere. 

Just as he’s about to speak, his eyes adjust to the darkness enough to reveal a more complete picture of the scene: Youngjo has his arms wrapped tightly around the small frame of everyone’s favorite, delicate dancer: Hwanwoong. 

“It’s okay,” Youngjo is telling him softly. “It’s okay. I love you. I love you so, so much.” He bends down to kiss Hwanwoong’s hair. “I love you,” he says, yet again. 

Yonghoon closes his eyes and backs silently away, tilting his head back and resting it against a wall. 

At least he’s fucking used to crying, right? Thank God he’s learned to do so silently, too. Practice makes perfect. Just… fucking… perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☹️


	24. Chapter 24

In the hustle and bustle of the post-showcase aftermath, ONEWE and ONEUS are whisked back to the dorm building without Yonghoon encountering Youngjo one-on-one. It’s probably for the best; he can’t imagine that anything he could have said in that moment would have been wise.

Not that he can think of any wise things to say now, lying in his darkened bunk, tracing the seams of his phone with his fingernails. 

He can’t decide how he should broach the topic with Youngjo. His mind helpfully sorts out some options for the framing of the question. Wait, is it a question? A concern? Maybe both. Okay, options:

Option 1: Since we haven’t been spending much alone time together, are you perhaps feeling lonely these days? Just curious.

Option 2: My gosh, Youngjo, it feels almost as if I saw you whispering sweet and tender _I love you_ s to another man who is not your boyfriend, in the sawdust-scented, dark caverns of a theater. Surely I am totally creating things in my mind, hallucinating from the sheer exhaustion of preparing for re-debut! Right?

Option 3: ??? 

_Argh._

“Hyung,” says Hyungu softly across the room, “Can you stop sighing and groaning? I know Harin can sleep through anything, but I can’t.” 

It’s been months since Yonghoon has been back in the room he shares with the two middle children of the group, but occasionally he still forgets he has roommates – and should perhaps treat them with at least enough decency to ensure they don’t decide to suffocate him in his sleep with the nearest pillow. 

Maybe it’ll all be clear in the morning.

_____ 

It is not, in fact, all clear in the morning. Harin, Dongmyeong, and Giwook are still asleep. Unusually, Hyungu and Yonghoon have woken up first and are both seated at the table in their dining area. 

Hyungu, ever the caffeine addict, has made them both coffee, and Yonghoon is staring into his mug with all the mental firepower of wilted cabbage. 

“You didn’t sleep well, hyung?” asks Hyungu. 

Yonghoon stretches his neck and groans by way of response. 

“Me neither,” says Hyungu. Yonghoon peers into his face; sure enough, the guitarist’s usually flawless face seems a little puffier than usual. Maybe a touch sallow, too, compared to his standard golden complexion.

“Just post-show nerves?” asks Yonghoon. 

“No. Something a bit more…” Hyungu trails off. They’re both quiet for a bit. 

Yonghoon has learned to give Hyungu space when it seems like he has something substantial to say. He sips his coffee and breathes in deeply. 

Eventually, Hyungu continues. “The showcase just brought it home. Like, do you remember our talk in the shoe store?” Yonghoon nods and musters a small smile. 

Hyungu cracks his knuckles and continues. “I wonder if we really had any idea what we were signing up for. I just can’t help feeling like changing agencies, changing names, re-debuting… it’s like this amusement park ride we decided to board, and now there’s no getting off, because the little metal safety bar has come down across our chests, and here we all are, listening to Dongmyeong scream his fool head off but giggling at the same time. We’ll probably pull back into the station safely, and sure there’s excitement mixed in with the fear, but will it be worth it? Will it have been worth it if we don’t make any real upward progress and just land right back where we started?” 

Yonghoon frowns into his coffee. “Don’t you think you’re taking this analogy a bit far? Who knows which station our roller-coaster will even pull into? Maybe instead of a roller-coaster, we’re riding wild horses off into the unknown, and they could take us… anywhere!” 

Hyungu pauses, then shakes his head. “Maybe you meant for that to sound reassuring, but…” 

Yonghoon finishes the sentence for him, “But it’s not. Yeah, okay. You left an important item off that list of changes, too.” 

“That we changed our name _twice_ , not just the once? That we had to give up the fandom name and colors?” 

“Okay… those, too,” concedes Yonghoon, head now spinning. “But what I was thinking of – and maybe this is me just being self-centered, but… you used to be the group leader, and now, for better or for worse, it’s me.” 

Hyungu presses his lower lip against his upper teeth and nods. 

“Do you…” Yonghoon cocks his head a bit, trying to figure out how to phrase this.

“Do I regret that?” Hyungu beats him to the punch. 

“Yeah. Do you?” 

Another long pause fills the space between them. “I don’t know, yet.” 

Yonghoon nods. He’s not offended. If anything, he appreciates the guitarist’s perpetual honesty with him. But now… now’s not a good time. He sets his coffee on the table, closes his eyes, scrunches his shoulders to his ears, and then lets them back down with a noisy exhalation. 

“Sorry, hyung, I…” 

“No, no,” says Yonghoon. “No. I would hate it if you started flattering me. For one thing, I would assume aliens had abducted the real Kang Hyungu, leaving someone friendly in his place.” Hyungu shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “No, it’s just that… I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.” 

“No shit, big chief.”

“NO!” says Yonghoon, suddenly desperate to talk to somebody about it. “Different. About… about Youngjo.”

Hyungu looks startled. “Trouble in paradise? Do I need to get the GABA tea?” 

“Oh, we’re way past that.” 

“Whoa.” Yonghoon can barely see Hyungu’s eyebrows past his shaggy blonde mane, but they hike sharply upward. 

There’s a sound of stirring and giggling from the maknae bedroom. Most likely Dongmyeong is trying to rouse a groggy Giwook awake. 

Hyungu, sharp as ever, cuts his eyes back from the bedroom doors to Yonghoon’s face. “Do you want to go on a walk and talk about it?” 

Yonghoon considers this. They’re close, but he’s four years older than the guitarist. As close as the band is – sometimes feeling like a single animal, a colony with a hive mind – Yonghoon is not used to confiding deeply in them about his romantic problems. Although, truth be told, he’s not used to confiding in _anybody_ deeply about his romantic problems. 

There’s a louder giggle from the smaller bedroom – definitely a Dongmyeong trademark laugh.

“Yeah, both of us could stand more coffee,” says Yonghoon. “Grab your shoes, leave your wallet. My treat.”

_____ 

“I mean, if you want to know what I think,” says Hyungu, leaning back against the wooden café booth, “Yeah, yeah, I think you’re being a dumbass. You kiss on us all the time.” 

Yonghoon sets down his iced americano, rests his elbows on the table, and puts his head in his hands. “You didn’t see him, Hyungu-yah!” 

“Well, then, look. It sounds like you’ve made your mind up. You’re right that I wasn’t there, but if you’re so sure he’s cheating on you, you should talk to him. Actually, no matter what, you should talk to him.” 

“And I know that! I just don’t know what to say.” 

“Just be reasonable! Tell him you’re not sure what you saw—”

“But I’m sure of what I saw!” interrupts Yonghoon. 

Hyungu rolls his eyes. “—but that you want to make sure you’re on the same page about your relationship and what is or is not appropriate outside of it.” 

Yonghoon suddenly laughs – a nervous laugh of disbelief. “Why _did_ you all vote to make me leader? I envy you your steady mind.” 

“Fuck if I know, hyung,” says the guitarist, before quickly adding, “Kidding! Of course. Give yourself some credit; we haven’t fallen apart yet, and we do a lot less arguing in circles than we used to. I’m no good at dealing with conflict, you know that.” 

“Mmm,” agrees Yonghoon demurely into his americano. 

“Whatever you do, don’t just outright accuse him of cheating.” 

“Mmmmm,” Yonghoon murmurs into his straw. 

They finish their coffees in relative silence.

_____ 

Yonghoon enters Youngjo’s studio cautiously, mind reeling with memories of sex, making out, and yes – listening to music. 

Youngjo’s eyes sparkle at his entrance. “Come sit in my lap! I’ve got new stuff for you to hear. Well, some of it’s old, but it’ll be new to you.” 

The singer closes his eyes in an extended blink, then reopens them to see Youngjo now considering him with his uniquely intense gaze. Before he can say anything, Yonghoon shuts the door behind him and sits on the rapper’s lap, folding his long arms and resting his head against Youngjo’s chest. He tries to find a comfortable position for his legs, finally pressing them awkwardly against the desk. “Sorry, I feel like a giant stick insect.” 

“What happened to ‘modelesque?’ You okay, babe?” Youngjo tilts his head down to kiss Yonghoon’s hair.

_Just like he kissed Hwanwoong’s hair._

“Do you think I’m boring and vanilla in bed?” asks Yonghoon. 

“What?! I mean, it’s true that you’re not the kinkiest guy or anything, but like… neither am I, and just… don’t we get a pass for being in a queer relationship? Isn’t that like a get-out-of-boring-free card?”

“I guess.” 

“Why are you asking me this, my giant stick insect?”

Yonghoon’s brain, for once jealous of another person’s short stature, fizzles and short-circuits in a shower of black sparks. Instead of answering the question, the next words out of the singer’s mouth are, “Are you cheating on me?”

_“WHAT?!”_ gasps Youngjo. “Why would you even ask that?” _Whoops. Sorry, Hyungu._

“Please just answer me first.” Yonghoon can’t look his boyfriend in the eye. He balls up some of Youngjo’s shirt in his hand and clings to it, his eyes prickling dangerously.

“Okay, two things. One: I am not cheating on you. Two: why the hell would you even ask me that?” 

“I saw you and Hwanwoong backstage after Sparkling Piece.” 

Youngjo sighs, frustration evident in his voice. “He needed comforting.” 

“Helluva comforting.” Yonghoon’s tears find their way down his nose and onto his boyfriend’s shirt. “What about?”

“It’s actually, and I’m trying to stay calm here, totally none of your business. At all.”

Yonghoon is racked with sobs. The studio is silent for a while as Yonghoon’s body shakes them both in the office chair.

Finally, Youngjo sighs. “Look, why are you being a dick about this? I don’t know exactly what you think you saw, but if you’d been spying on me – on us – all evening, you would know that I didn’t do anything with him. I know you and I haven’t had much alone time lately, but I just… I don’t get it. Okay, if I haven’t done a good enough job at telling you how much I love you…”

Yonghoon speaks through his tears. “No, you have, you do – you’re so, _so_ loving. The only issue is… you’re not just loving with me.” 

Youngjo groans. “You know, I’m not sure I get why you’re so insecure. You literally have it all. You’re tall, you have a voice people would sell their firstborn children to acquire, you literally look like some Greek god—” 

“I thought they were blond?” Yonghoon sniffles.

“Shut up. You look like a god, and you have me as your boyfriend.” Youngjo attempts a laugh, but it sounds strangled to Yonghoon. 

They are quiet for a few more moments.

Yonghoon tries to steady his breathing. “Okay, so here’s my second question, since I can’t possibly piss you off any further than I already have.” 

“Ohmygooood, Yonghoon, quit with the self-deprecation already.” 

“Okay,” manages Yonghoon. “So my question is… if I believe you that you’re not doing anything with Hwanwoong or anybody else—” Youngjo audibly grinds his teeth, “—then… my second question is… could you? Would you?” 

Youngjo’s intense eyes are now glittering in anger. “What are you asking me?” 

Yonghoon looks at his bedroom-eyed, feline boyfriend dead-on, breathing a bit more regularly now. “I am asking… would you consider being with Hwanwoong? Kissing, fucking, whatever.” 

Youngjo hesitates for just a second before saying, “I wouldn’t.” 

Yonghoon removes his hand from Youngjo’s shirt, exhales a long breath, and says, “Okay. I’m sorry.” He steadies his shoulders. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too. But do you trust me?” 

“I trust you,” says Yonghoon. 

Youngjo’s face softens. He holds Yonghoon tightly for several minutes, before their breathing coalesces, and Yonghoon cranes his face toward the rapper’s. Their kiss is the powerful, emotional kiss of a recent fight and its fresh, fragile reconciliation. Yonghoon feels a surge of relief, comfort, and lust in his veins – adrenaline and other chemicals still in overdrive. It’s absolutely intoxicating.

But… he’s not sure he’ll ever forget that moment of hesitation before Youngjo answered the second question. 

_____ 

They continue filming pre-debut footage for their entertainment agency, ONEWE suffering time and time again at the hands of odds stacked against them for comedic value. ONEUS are the bigger budget, higher-stakes group of the two, and Yonghoon works to hold back any bitterness about disparate treatment. He especially doesn’t want to take it out on Youngjo.

The two lovers, as eldest members of their respective groups, are asked to film a little staged scene wherein they decide to hire a food truck. Fresh from fucking in the shower, it turns into the most awkward, scripted-sounding, unnatural scene in the entire batch of reality footage.

The company doesn’t seem to notice or care. Manager Gwangmin, long since clued in, expresses a greater deal of concern in whether ONEUS are actually going to do their laundry on a semi-regular basis than on the sex lives of his charges. 

Yonghoon tries to hold it together when he sees Youngjo’s physical affection with his group members, especially Hwanwoong. It hasn’t diminished at all; if anything, the rapper has increased his attentions toward the rest of ONEUS.

One day, he averts his stare a little too late and realizes Giwook is looking at him. “You kiss on us all the time, hyung,” the bassist says, softly. 

_It’s. Different._

Yonghoon represses his internal screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so ready for this virtual ONEWE concert. Join me in streaming - and screaming - online! 
> 
> I'll be the one holding up a giant metaphorical sign that says, "I love these boys a possibly problematic amount!" I'll wave, okay? Wave back!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ONEWE virtual show was unbelievably wonderful. I loved every moment of it, especially joining in the flood of stars during Regulus. 
> 
> You'll, understand, I'm sure, why I needed an emotional breather before posting this long chapter. ❤️

Yonghoon finds that despite the stress of career and romantic uncertainty, he’s just inherently not a moping type of guy. The golden warmth of the late summer air, the thrill of musical creation, and even the growing pressure of exceeding his own standards all color Yonghoon’s days in a dizzying spectrum of experience. Whatever and however else he’s feeling on any given day, he feels _alive._

This prickle – this almost stinging certainty that if nothing else, he’s a human, with functioning emotional responses – almost overwhelms him at times. His songwriting notebooks fill faster and faster as the weeks pass, his terrible handwriting spilling across the pages like so many torrents of a creative river. 

The ONEUS members begin preparing in earnest for their debut as an idol group. Youngjo – credited as Ravn, a stage name that still sounds exotic under Yonghoon’s tongue – buckles down on writing verses for their debut album. 

The realization comes gradually to Yonghoon, although maybe it should have been obvious: _of course_ music would be the solution. Or a solution, anyway.

Music becomes a vessel of sorts for Yonghoon and Youngjo to build functioning bridges of communication. Their lyrical journeys are wildly disparate, but in discussing their songwriting goals and challenges with each other, they build a vocabulary previously missing in their relationship – a scaffolding to discuss differences of opinion.

It doesn’t quite resolve Yonghoon’s unease about his boyfriend’s outsized displays of affection, but it helps take the edge off. Substantially.

Yonghoon listens to a work in progress in Youngjo’s studio and – somewhere in between the superhero references and touching lyrics – feels an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He reaches out a hand to Youngjo, seated in the other chair (when the rapper finally crammed a second chair into the space, Yonghoon was almost regretful, remembering their many floor make-out sessions). 

“Goldilocks?” he says, softly. 

Youngjo’s expressive eyes reveal his surprise; it’s been weeks since Yonghoon called him by the pet name. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember the night you escorted me home safely, after the purple drink of doom?” 

Youngjo’s delighted smile is instant, eyes alight and heart-shaped lips revealing cheerful, pearly teeth. “It wasn’t far to walk you. Do you ask because – wait, no, I’m not going to interrupt or lead your question.” 

“I appreciate that. When you left…” Yonghoon wants to add, _This will sound so dumb_ – but he’s learning not to constantly hedge his own words, “… when you left, I remember exactly how you looked and what you said. And you were already mostly turned to the door, but you sort of stopped and told me you were no hero.”

Youngjo picks up Yonghoon’s outstretched hand and kisses the back of it. “Mm-hrrm.” 

“I guess it’s a long shot, but does that… did that moment find its way into this song?” 

Youngjo looks contemplative for a second. “Honestly, it’s not what I was thinking about, consciously, but I do remember that moment. It’s very possible it was in the back of my mind when I decided to write a song called _Hero_.” 

They sit together for a while longer, Yonghoon reflecting that maybe it’s not such a bad thing for them to be honest with each other in this way. If it’s something he’s always valued in his relationship with his band members, why should it be any different in a romantic relationship? 

Maybe sometimes imperfection is okay; maybe even long-term disagreements are okay, as long as the basic respect is there. 

_____ 

Yonghoon still feels a certain, ephemeral unease around Hwanwoong and eventually accepts that it’s possible the feeling will never fade. 

He knows that Youngjo told Hwanwoong about their fight, earlier in the summer, and suspects that part of his own unease is pure guilt over prioritizing his own ego over Hwanwoong’s distress at the Sparkling Piece venue. That or maybe embarrassment over the whole ordeal. 

Nevertheless, they’re both busy enough that it’s easy to pass off their lack of any friendly connection as a sheer byproduct of scheduling conflicts.

_____

Youngjo and Dongju are over for dinner at the ONEWE apartment. They’re the most common visitors to the band’s family meals, and squeezing two extra bodies around the low, square table has become common practice. 

Tonight, however, they’re also fitting in an eighth person, and elbow room is tight. 

“Do you have enough leg room, Jun?” 

“Sure do!” says their eighth guest, folding and unfolding his legs. 

“Liar!” scoffs Dongmyeong. “Yonghoon-hyung does this, too.” 

“What, lie?” asks Dongju. Yonghoon sputters into his drink.

“No, for all his flaws, you know he’s honest. Trying to act like…” Dongmyeong imitates Yonghoon’s voice, “Oh, just me and my ridiculously long legs, I need to keep rearranging them so you all notice how long they are…” 

They all laugh. Yonghoon’s cheeks take on only the faintest pink tinge as he laughs broadly, but Jun blushes furiously, with a contained giggle. 

“You’re so mean to him,” says Youngjo. “He’s your leader! I would have made you do all sorts of punishments if I were your leader and you spoke to me like that.” 

“Are you the leader of ONEUS, then?” asks Jun. “I mean, I know you’re not allowed to say yet, but I’m guessing you’ve already decided.” 

“We actually decided we’re not going to have an official leader,” says the rapper, reaching for another piece of chicken. 

“Seriously?” asks Jun. “Why not?” 

“Youngjo’s the oldest, but he’s too nice. Dongju’s the meanest, but he’s too young,” says Giwook, before immediately cowering behind Dongmyeong; the younger twin reaches out to smack the bassist, fire in his eyes. 

“I had never thought of it that way before,” says Harin, “but… hang on. Hwanwoong seems to have good leadership abilities and is very patient. Why not him?” Yonghoon recalls the endless hours Hwanwoong spent teaching Harin choreography and tilts his head thoughtfully. 

“You’ve never tried to wake the guy up before,” says Dongju, pursing his mouth and raising one eyebrow. “It’s like trying to budge a stoned yeti. We would never be anywhere on time.” 

“If you ask me,” says Youngjo, “I think Keonhee would do a great job. He’s confident, well-spoken, and intelligent. He makes good decisions, you know? And he acts silly in public, but he’s really well-grounded.” 

“But?” asks Jun. 

“He just doesn’t want to do it, says he knows his own limits,” answers Youngjo. 

There’s a moment of quiet before five voices start cackling loudly as the other three look on, eyes wide. 

“Ha! Good decision making!” says Dongmyeong.

“Knowing his own limits!” adds Giwook. 

“Well-grounded!” chime in Harin and Hyungu in unison. Harin laughs hard enough to bang his head on the wall, though he doesn’t stop laughing as he nurses the spot with his hand. 

Yonghoon is laughing so hard he can’t even formulate a verbal response. 

Jun looks from ONEWE member to member, clearly unsure how to respond. 

Youngjo chuckles. “They’re always like this. Welcome to the family.” 

“Yeah,” adds Dongju, playful hint of a grin forming across his features. “My condolences.” 

“YAHHH!” gasps Dongmyeong. “Rude!” He elbows his brother in the ribcage.

“He’s not wrong, though, Myeongie,” says Yonghoon, finally catching his breath. “We are, in fact, a Grade-A certified mess.”

Dongmyeong is back to giggling. “Fine. But really, Jun, don’t listen to them. Dongju is just jealous.” 

The younger twin scoffs, incredulous. “Jealous? Of what?” 

“I dunno,” Dongmyeong shrugs. “Our amazing talent. Our amazing looks.” Giwook snorts in amusement. “The fact that we get to hear Yonghoon belt out old, boring songs in the shower all the time.” 

“Oh, I’ll bet the ONEUS apartment gets its fair share of hearing Yonghoon in the shower, too,” says Harin. 

The table erupts in renewed laughter, though this time it’s both Youngjo and Yonghoon’s turn to flush deep red, while Jun’s laughter is loud and broad, revealing both his expansive gums and puppy-like disposition to their fullest. 

_____ 

After dinner, Yonghoon and Youngjo take a walk along the river. Yonghoon is wearing a light denim jacket; his pocket is heavy. 

“They’re cute,” Youngjo says, as they settle onto what the singer has come to regard as “their” bench. 

“Mm? Oh, Dongmyeong and Jun?” Yonghoon smooths his jeans over his thighs and shakes his hair from his glasses. 

“Yeah. They’re cute. It was pretty sweet of Jun to come over for dinner, too, despite having such a packed schedule.” 

Yonghoon murmurs his agreement. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually, and I do wonder whether eventually Dongmyeong gave him an ultimatum.” 

“What, like, ‘Come finally meet my band members or we break up?’” 

“It’s possible. On the other hand, introducing your significant other to your loved ones is always tricky,” says Yonghoon. “It’s only been recently that I even told my family about you, remember? And technically, they’re not even a couple, according to Dongmyeong. He says it’s safer on them both mentally to just keep their relationship unlabeled.” 

“Huh.” Youngjo is thoughtful for a moment, brushing his hair away from his brow. “Do you think that might have worked out better for us, if we’d had a longer period of dating each other casually before committing to a relationship?” 

“Funny you ask,” says Yonghoon, trying to control his breathing. 

“What, why?” The rapper’s face is searching, confused. 

Yonghoon laughs. “You look so concerned! Just… what day is it? And what were we doing on this day last year?” 

“OH MY GOD.” Youngjo is aghast, usually feline eyes now wide enough to show white all around the pupils. “I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Sure you did, Goldilocks. A year with you is plenty.” Yonghoon tries to settle his galloping heart and takes several deep – but shuddering – breaths. Okay, maybe he needs to calm down first. There’s no rush. No rush to anything. No occasion is going to be a happy memory if one of the people involved passes out. 

“Oof.” Youngjo closes his eyes and rests his head on Yonghoon’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Really, if I wanted a gift, I would have told you so.” Yonghoon pats his boyfriend’s thigh. _Besides,_ he thinks, _I got **you** a gift._

The rapper’s face goes… _weird._

“You are absolutely right. You would have told me. You tell me everything. You’ve been…” Youngjo’s eyes go wide again, then his brows furrow deeply. “Nobody has ever been as honest and open with me as you.” Youngjo’s expression shifts again, this time morphing sharply into something Yonghoon can’t identify. The rapper puts his elbows on his legs and rests his forehead in his hands. “I’m sorry.” 

“I told you!” says Yonghoon, with a short laugh. “I don’t need a present. We’ve both got enough going on. You start recording lines for the title track, what, next week?” 

“I think so. Yonghoon…” Youngjo looks up into his lover’s eyes, and suddenly Yonghoon feels his stomach plummet. “You are too good to me.” 

“What? What’s the matter?” 

“I’m… I don’t think it had clicked until now. We’ve been working on our communication skills—” 

“And we’re doing great! Right? Okay, I just… I literally just interrupted you.” Yonghoon laughs nervously. “But we are, right?” 

“We are. But I guess… what I mean is… _you_ are. You’ve done everything I ever asked, and I haven’t apologized once for being careless with your concerns.” 

“But that’s okay!” Yonghoon takes hold of Youngjo’s shoulders. “Even if you have a hard time apologizing for things that happened in the past, it’s your actions that count… and you’ve been so, so good and generous – like you always are. Because you’re just a giving, generous person.” He lets go of his boyfriend’s shoulders and runs one hand through his own hair.

“No, no, just… going back to the communication… it doesn’t count as progress if it’s only you being open and forthcoming.” Youngjo looks miserable. 

“So,” Yonghoon tries to keep his voice light, “what do you need to tell me?” 

“Well, I think it only clicked tonight, seeing you with your band members. I think you’ve been right all along.” 

The singer’s insides are turning in on themselves. “I have? About what?” 

“The way you all feel about each other is different from the way I feel about my group members. And maybe it… maybe I haven’t been as honest about my own feelings, because I’ve been trying to keep the peace.” 

Yonghoon’s head is spinning. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

“See, and this is exactly the issue! You’ve been better and better about being honest with me, and I… haven’t. I’ve been more and more desperate to hang onto you – hang onto this – and it’s made me dishonest. With you. With myself, too, I guess.” 

Yonghoon tilts his head back, trying to prevent the tears from messing up the light concealer he’d applied earlier. He finally stills his breath enough to ask, “So what, then, have you been dishonest about, that you need to tell me on our first anniversary?” 

Youngjo slides off the bench to sit on the grass at Yonghoon’s feet. Any other time, it would be a comedic move. He wraps one arm around Yonghoon’s leg and rests his head against the tall singer’s knee. 

They sit there in silence, oblivious to the glances of any passers-by, last rays of sunlight reflected on the river’s rippled surface. 

Finally, voice a husky whisper, Youngjo says, “I think I love Hwanwoong… too much. Well, for sure more than you love any of your band members. I don’t want to date him. I know he doesn’t want to date me; I actually think he’s asexual. But that doesn’t matter. I’m still a shitbag for not being honest about it when you first asked me. I can try and justify it by saying I didn’t realize it at the time – because I didn’t. But still, I treated you like shit, when you were right about me having… inappropriate feelings toward my group member.” 

Yonghoon bends down and rests his head on Youngjo’s, draping one arm across his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this on our anniversary.” 

“I fucking know. I just… something clicked, or snapped, or whatever terrible metaphor you like, and I realized it was true, and that I wasn’t being honest, and you… you deserve total honesty, and if that means you only suffer through a dishonest boyfriend for one year instead of one year and a day, isn’t that… isn’t that better?” 

Yonghoon shifts his weight, feeling his heavy pocket against his torso. His tears are tracing rivers down the crevices of his face, then disappearing into Youngjo’s rather wavy hair. “Better? I can’t… I can’t believe anything you’re telling me right now could be classified as ‘better.’” 

“I understand if you don’t think you can be with me anymore.” 

“What? How did we even… do you _want_ to break up?” 

“No! No! I love you – I love you so much, loud showering and all. I’m just saying, I… understand if you don’t want to live under this cloud, this knowledge that your boyfriend has… feelings for another man.” 

Yonghoon runs his hands through Youngjo’s hair for a while before responding. “I don’t know how I feel about any of this yet. I think I need some time to think about it. But speaking of timing, yours is just absolutely terrible.” 

The rapper groans. “I know. I feel like I’m in some waking nightmare.” 

“Well, and whose fault is that?” The singer manages a bitter chuckle. 

“I know,” repeats Youngjo, quietly. 

Yonghoon sighs, lightly. His head feels like it’s full of cut glass. Every eye motion, every tiny breeze touching his face, feels like a tiny, razor-sharp gash.

They watch the sunset in silence. 

_____ 

Both men are consumed by work for the next week. 

Nine days after they last went to the river, Yonghoon asks to speak to Youngjo alone. Manager Gwangmin is absent and apparently intends to be for at least a few days, lost to some unknowable errand or social engagement no doubt more fun than babysitting idol trainees. 

They sit down together on Youngjo’s bed. It’s a while before either of them speak.

“I know,” says Youngjo finally, leaning against Yonghoon. The sound of their breathing fills the small room.

“Okay,” says his now ex-boyfriend. They fall asleep fully clothed, a tangle of limbs, clothing, sweat, tears, and exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh.


	26. Chapter 26

Mercifully, none of the ONEUS members are in the common areas when Yonghoon drags himself out of Youngjo’s room and across the hallway to his own apartment. 

He closes the front door, stumbles to the kitchen cabinets, grabs a bottle of soju, and collapses on the sofa.

Yonghoon twists the lid off, takes a swig directly from the bottle, and grimaces. He frowns at the morning sunlight streaming through the blinds and realizes that, in theory, he should go to work soon. 

_Ehhhh. Fuck it._ He takes another swig. _Fucking sunlight._ Swig. _Fucking… grapefruit flavored soju?! Ugh, nasty._ Swig.

The door to the smaller bedroom opens, and Dongmyeong – ever the morning person among them – enters the hallway, then stops short. “Hyung?” 

Yonghoon leans back against the sofa cushions, covers his eyes with his arm, and groans. 

“Is that… is that my bottle of grapefruit soju?” Dongmyeong asks. 

“You’re underage, Myeongie. It’s my bottle now.” 

“You don’t even like that flavor, hyung!” Yonghoon doesn’t respond. Dongmyeong shifts his weight back and forth, and the floor creaks gently. “So… you didn’t have a good night last night?” 

“We broke up.” Yonghoon takes another swig of soju. 

It takes Dongmyeong roughly 10 seconds to rally from stone-cold, silent shock. The first thing he does is bound – _in one leap? seems like it_ – to the sofa and throw himself around Yonghoon’s neck, knocking the soju bottle perilously sideways. 

The second thing he does is scream, at full Son Dongmyeong volume, right next to Yonghoon’s sensitive ears, **“MANDATORY AFFECTION TIME!”**

Oh, no. _Oh, NO!_

Yonghoon barely has enough time to whisk the bottle to safety, on the floor next to the wall. There are groans from both bedrooms, but three sleepy bandmates soon appear and, without questioning the siren call of a Dongmyeong in the wild, launch themselves vigorously at Yonghoon. He almost can’t breathe for being surrounded by pajama-clad young musicians. 

They ruffle his hair, hug every available surface, and shove each other aside for better access. Is somebody hugging his _FEET?_

The cuddle attack lasts a few minutes, everybody laughing and shrieking in mounting confusion and chaos, until finally they all sit back, breathless. Where have his socks gone? Where are his glasses??

“To what do we owe this great honor, Dongmyeong?” asks Harin. 

“You should tell them, hyung, not me,” says the keyboardist, shaking his head. 

“It’s the weekend, and I wanted to party.” Yonghoon shrugs and retrieves the soju from its corner on the floor. 

“It’s a Thursday, though?” says Giwook, just as Hyungu says, “Bullshit.” 

Yonghoon sighs. “Fine.” He stares at his hands. “We broke up.” 

They all gasp – Dongmyeong included, as if hearing the news again were just as shocking the second time around as the first. 

“That’s it, I’m getting the tea,” says Harin. 

Lord almighty. The last time there was a call for both Mandatory Affection Time and the special tea on the same day was… has it ever happened before? 

_Wait,_ yes – the day they finally voted to leave their small, indie label and sign with a larger entertainment agency, sacrificing their original name and fandom symbols. 

Yonghoon suddenly feels unworthy of all this fuss. “Guys, you don’t have to… I mean, Hyungu’s had a break-up in the last few years. We all just took him out for barbecue.” 

“Sure,” says Giwook, “But she was just a girlfriend. That was just a normal break-up.” 

“What do you mean?” asks Hyungu, looking a little offended. “Breaking up with Jiwon was devastating!” 

Yonghoon also looks confused, “What counts as an abnormal break-up?” 

Giwook purses his lips, scrunches his brows, and says, “You know… I think… this is different, somehow.” 

“I agree, hyung,” says Dongmyeong, “Even if I’m not sure why.” 

“I third,” calls out Harin from next to the hot water kettle. 

Dongmyeong reaches over and gives Hyungu a playful shove. “But look, the next time you break up with a girl, Hyungu-hyung, we can get you the tea, too.” 

They sit around the table and drink tea together, Harin spilling tea on his pajamas, Dongmyeong braiding tiny plaits into Giwook’s hair. The sun shifts across the wooden floor.

“Are we all going to be very late going into rehearsal, I’m assuming?” asks Hyungu. 

Yonghoon examines his tea and the eddies he creates, swirling the cup. “Maybe we just say fuck rehearsal, today.” 

Giwook’s eyes bug out from his face. “Whoa, hyung, you really are feeling low.” 

“I didn’t say we shouldn’t do anything! That does _not_ mean we just play Pokemon all day. Giwookie, you’ve got studio work to do, right? Maybe we call today a day for independent, creative work. No need to report back or anything. You’ve each got a conscience and lots to think about. Okay, well… it’s time to express all of that. Do we just play music, or are we musicians?” 

Hyungu looks up at Yonghoon, and their eyes meet. Hyungu smiles gently and nods. Yonghoon picks up the message, loud and clear. _You’re doing a good job._

Yonghoon tries to restrain himself, but it’s just not in his nature. He leans across and grabs Hyungu in a hug, kissing him feverishly on the nape of the neck before releasing the sputtering guitarist back to freedom. It’ll do for a thank you. Just… a very Yonghoon-style thank you. 

_____ 

Yonghoon has a song he’s been working on; he’s been thinking of it as a hip-hop track. But now… now, in the dim quiet of his cupboard studio, he stares over the lyrics once more, and they form a totally different pattern. 

He can’t quite make it coalesce. This much he knows: it’s going to hurt; it’s going to hurt real, real bad. Maybe that explains why he finds himself pulling back just a touch – just enough to not see this song’s final shape. 

Not yet. He’s just not ready yet.

He starts work on other projects, instead, recording guide tracks for other artists, coming up with vocal harmonies for melodies Hyungu and Giwook have created. 

He’ll come back to his own track. Later. 

_____ 

It’s hard to tell how much of the distance between the ONEUS and ONEWE families is due to the break-up of their two oldest members and how much is a sheer by-product of ONEUS preparing, feverishly now, for debut. The ONEUS debut is finally no longer simply a hypothetical – the company has decided on a title track, a concept, and a launch date. Music video filming goes well, judging by the news that trickles across to the ONEWE side of the apartments.

The ONEWE members hold a Christmas-themed concert, and Yonghoon is so bolstered by the sight of his band members in Santa Claus headbands – and the unflagging support of their fans – that he can almost, temporarily forget the cavernous ache filling his chest every time he sees Youngjo in the company building. 

_____ 

The ONEUS members look amazing in the promotional materials. Really… really amazing. It must be the styling. Surely.

The agency has printed photocards of all the ONEUS members and given them to the ONEWE members. Yonghoon manages to sneak one of Youngjo – as Ravn – wearing a military-inspired suit jacket, making a heart with his hands. His eyes are closed in the picture, as if even the photographed Youngjo can’t quite make eye contact with Yonghoon. 

He really should either toss the photocard or keep it stashed in some dark corner of his desk, but what Yonghoon instead does is write the lyrics he’s been working on onto a square of paper, then fold those lyrics neatly around the card, forming a little pocket or closed envelope. He takes a small screwdriver, jimmies open the base to his desk microphone, and decides he has barely enough room to fit the lyric-wrapped card inside. 

Perfect. It can just stay there. Forever, if need be.

But one night in his studio, working late long after everyone else has gone home, Yonghoon finally slips the photocard back out of the mic base. He smooths the lyrics out onto his desk, steadies his breathing, and lets his mind finally accept the events of the last two years. 

Everything. 

He doesn’t cry.

He _does_ think about his own track and the lyrics to it. He pulls out his guitar and starts reworking the track.

_____ 

ONEUS debuts with a bang – a catchy, powerful banger of a song, to be specific. The entire album is powerful, and it even features a hard-hitting collaboration with Giwook (under his stage name, CyA) – but as soon as Yonghoon hears the title track, “Valkyrie,” he knows: this is a hit. 

Yonghoon finds himself watching ONEUS on variety shows. He had thought he couldn’t, remembering his ordeal with Youngjo’s stint on the reality show competition. And yet… he watches the members interact with each other and the show hosts and feels like, somehow, this is a window into who they really are. 

He watches one such appearance alone in his studio one evening. ONEUS – who is he kidding? _Youngjo;_ he watches for Youngjo – is charming, but beyond charming, the rapper is just… an incredibly, monumentally, riptide-crashing level of loving with all of ONEUS. All of them. All the time. There are moments Yonghoon can’t quite interpret, though – flashes of a dull, gray haze behind those feline bedroom eyes.

He hugs his knees to his chest and replays the whole show, truly appreciating – maybe for the first time – just how fluid of a dancer Hwanwoong is, how endearingly awkward both Dongju and Geonhak act on camera. They’ll grow into their variety show personas, with time. Keonhee and Seoho flaunt their vocals, and Yonghoon feels his own chest heave in a mirrored desire to sing. 

It’s time. 

He turns on the music software and begins recording, in earnest, his demo. If, while doing so, he holds in his hands a photocard of a closed-eyed man making a cheesy heart with his hands – if he sings with his own eyes closed – if he lets a stray salty tear barely tip out the corner of one eye – well, nobody has to know. 

They might hear it in his voice, though.

_____ 

Weeks pass, and Yonghoon finds himself in the elevator with Manager Gwangmin. Is… is Manager-nim giving him the stink-eye? 

He lets Manager-nim exit the elevator first, of course, but instead of going straight to the ONEUS apartment, Manager Gwangmin stops in the elevator lobby and does an unthinkable, never-before-seen thing: he puts his phone away, into his pocket. 

“I wasn’t going to bring this up,” he tells Yonghoon. “But I can’t help it; I’m just too pissed off.” 

“I’m sorry… excuse me?” Yonghoon is truly at a loss. 

“If you don’t know, you really are an airhead. I never believed it. You’ve always seemed a bit silly, but like you had a good head on your shoulders.” 

“I…” Yonghoon is speechless, mind whirling in dozens of futile directions at once. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I guess in theory it’s none of my business. Or I guess, I always thought it wasn’t any of my business, and maybe I got too lax. I thought, ‘Hey, they’re grown men, they’re adults, they can take care of themselves,’ you know? And I got too lenient. And now, it actually is my business. It’s literally my business. But I can see from the look on your face that you still don’t think you have anything to do with it. Well, maybe you really are a dumbass.” 

Manager Gwangmin harrumphs and stomps away toward the ONEUS apartment. 

Yonghoon stands alone in the elevator lobby, slack-jawed, feeling something like icy cold water ripple all over his body. 

_____ 

The next day, the ONEWE members find out the news: Youngjo is going on medical hiatus and will have to take a break from all ONEUS activities. Indefinitely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will I even do with myself once this is complete? Go take a long bath in a hot spring somewhere, I guess...


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one today, folks. Grab a mug of your favorite tea!

It’s ONEWE’s turn to be mind-numbingly busy. Perhaps as an apology for the long delay in re-debuting, their agency has decided that they will not only release three tracks for their debut, all three will feature music videos as well. Yonghoon’s reworked track, “Reminisce About All,” will be the centerpiece. In a behind-the-scenes featurette, Dongmyeong manages to tell the camera with a straight face that the song is about ONEWE’s struggles as a band. Presumably, he is counting on nobody listening to the lyrics or reading their translation.

Another of the three songs, Hyungu’s contribution to the release, is an ode to keeping one’s personal and business lives from getting entangled. When questioned about his inspiration, he vaguely answers that it has to do with a first love of his own. Nobody questions him on how this could possibly have anything to do with keeping his business and personal affairs separate.

Yonghoon is grateful for their camera-friendly explanations. Really, Giwook’s track is the only one that doesn’t cause a tiny spike in blood pressure whenever they’re asked about the lyrics, because – as Giwook delights in reminding Yonghoon – it has nothing to do with the band’s leader at all, anyway.

As for Harin, he simply jokes to the camera, “Which one is my favorite? Oh, I don’t like any of these songs, since I didn’t write any of them.” Ah, good ol’ Harin.

It’s been over half a year since his break-up with Youngjo, and Yonghoon wakes up each morning with a renewed hope that today, _today,_ will be the day that he is Over It. 

It never is.

One of these todays turns out to be the day that the company bosses tell the ONEWE members that Kim Youngjo is unwell and will be resting at home indefinitely. No details are given about his condition, only that he is receiving treatment and the company cannot estimate a date of return.

Would it be appropriate to text or call? Or write a card? Do people even still write cards? Would that be intrusive or make it worse? What could “it” even be, exactly? Yonghoon has no clue.

A few days after learning the news, Yonghoon spies Seoho in the company café. He takes a deep breath and approaches him, praying he can keep his expression neutral. 

“Seoho! Let me get your drink. I’m older.” 

Seoho turns in surprise and looks the tiniest bit confused – but not upset. “Hi, hyung. Umm, thank you.” 

“No problem.” Yonghoon puts in his own order. While they wait for their drinks, Yonghoon asks, “Do you have a second? I know you’re busy, too.” 

Seoho keeps his voice low. “Is this about Youngjo?”

Yonghoon doesn’t answer. He bites his lip and averts his eyes, trying to think of a response. 

Seoho saves him the trouble, “Look, I don’t… I think it’s fair for you to ask, but you haven’t talked to the one person you need to talk to the most.” 

“Can I even contact him? Is he like, in a clinic? Or at home?” 

Seoho shakes his head. “No. No, hyung. You need to talk to Hwanwoong.” 

Yonghoon stares at the blond singer. 

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Have you ever? Like, really talked to him? Really, really?” 

“No,” admits Yonghoon. 

The café employee hands over their drinks. Yonghoon takes a sip of his iced coffee and Seoho nods approvingly at his deep green concoction. _To each their own…_

They walk out the building together. “Where are you headed?” Yonghoon asks. 

“Home. How about you?” 

“Same,” says Yonghoon. “Want to walk together?” 

Seoho considers this, then says, “If you’re done for the day anyway, Hwanwoong is probably still in the dance practice room. We’re all done with rehearsal, but… you know Hwanwoong.” When Yonghoon doesn’t respond, Seoho cocks his head a bit and says, “Or rather, you don’t, I guess. I feel like you make my point for me.” He smiles, not unkindly– actually, almost apologetically.

Yonghoon laughs. “Alright, look, I don’t want to just spring myself on him, either, especially if he’s in the middle of creative work. I know how toxic interruptions can be to the creative process.”

“Okay, so text him. Or what, do you want me to act as a go-between? Passing notes, like in class, between the two of you?” Now Seoho’s crescent eyes are twinkling, teasing the older singer. 

“No, no. I’ll text him. I’ve got his number from way back last year sometime. But for now, let me walk home with you. I need to go shower, anyway.”

Their short walk home together is full of light, easy laughter. They talk shop – their company bosses, the trials of doing live broadcasts for fans, what they think of the young trainees in the agency, vocal exercises…

Yonghoon thinks back to the filming of the agency’s reality show footage and how both groups felt, for a summer, like a true family. 

Seoho is alright. No, more accurately: the ONEUS guys are alright. 

_____ 

Yonghoon tries several different versions of “Hi, maybe we should talk” texts before finally giving up, deleting his latest draft, and turning off his phone. He stands up from the sofa and stretches, popping his joints.

“You want to grab dinner together, Yonghoon-hyung?” asks Harin, coming into the living area from their bedroom.

“Nah, I’m about to head out again.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” says Yonghoon. He doesn’t explain further, and fortunately, Harin doesn’t question it, just nods. 

It starts to rain a bit on Yonghoon’s walk back to the company building – a gentle, fresh spring drizzle. Yonghoon shivers a bit in his denim jacket; they’ve all lost weight recently. Still, the mist in his face feels refreshing and helps him feel less flushed.

He enters the company building and hears his damp shoes squeak down the corridors. He knocks on the door to the dance rehearsal space and hears Hwanwoong’s clear voice call out, “Come in!” 

Yonghoon opens the door, enters the space, and closes it gently behind himself. He sees Hwanwoong looking at him, resting hands on hips – not visibly irritated, just obviously both tired and curious. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” says Yonghoon. 

“It’s fine,” says Hwanwoong. “I was about done for the evening, anyway. What’s up?” 

“Do you want to grab dinner?” 

“Well, I mean… I’m pretty gross at the moment. I don’t think I’m fit for even the most casual restaurant.” Hwanwoong shrugs apologetically. 

“Then, how about this: want to just walk around outdoors and nab street food? It’s been ages since I ate street food and just wandered.” 

“In the rain?” 

“Oh, it’s not too bad. And I think it’s going to let up soon.” 

Hwanwoong blinks at him for a second, then says, “Sure. Let me just gather up my stuff, okay? I don’t have much with me today, though, so it should be quick.” 

Yonghoon watches the small dancer pack his belongings into a black backpack and wonders how he would have reacted if Hwanwoong had just randomly invited him to dinner out of the blue. 

True to Yonghoon’s prediction, the drizzle begins to dissipate, leaving a hazy mist on both of their glasses, just as the evening begins to darken considerably. 

They make small talk, eating yachae hotteok and watching the city hustle and bustle reflected in sidewalk puddles. 

Finally, Yonghoon decides he needs to take some initiative. “I’m guessing you’re wondering why I suddenly showed up and wanted to hang out.” 

“A bit,” admits Hwanwoong. To his credit, though, he doesn’t scoff or smirk, just nibbles at his hotteok. 

“Well, I wanted to apologize.” 

Hwanwoong gives him a measured look. “What are you apologizing for?” 

“I would say it’s for being too self-absorbed to care about whether you were okay, that one particular night – I know Youngjo told you about it. But honestly… that’s a long time ago now, and I like to think we’re both over it.” 

“Mmm,” says Hwanwoong into his food. 

Yonghoon sighs. “I don’t think I’ve given you a fair shake as a friend since then.” 

“We’ve both been busy,” says the dancer. 

“Still, you know that’s not the whole truth. Keonhee and Seoho hang out with Hyungu all the time, Dongju and Dongmyeong obviously spend a lot of time together, and even Geonhak spends time with Giwook whether they’re actively recording projects together or not. You’ve got enough time, if you look for it, and so do I.” 

“You know what I heard you say just now?” asks Hwanwoong, leveling his steady gaze at Yonghoon in a way that the singer wouldn’t have thought possible, given their substantial height difference. 

“What?” 

“You just mentioned every single member of my group, except for the man you dated for a year.” 

“Yeah… yeah.”

They walk along in silence, avoiding the grimy splash of puddle-water kicked up by passing cars. 

Hwanwoong throws his hotteok wrapper in the trash and turns to Yonghoon. “You know, he’s not doing great.” 

“I heard,” says Yonghoon. 

“Well, I don’t know what you heard, but I doubt it’s the full story.” 

Yonghoon takes his glasses off and starts wiping the condensation on his shirt. “We didn’t hear much, so you’re probably right.” 

“Well, it’s not really my place to say,” begins Hwanwoong, “But I don’t have Youngjo’s discretion, and I think you have a right to know. What he told us was ‘anxiety’ and ‘exhaustion’ – but like I said, that’s not the whole story. He hasn’t been eating right. He’s been smoking again. I really think his mental health has been in the gutter. We try to support him, obviously, but there’s only so much we can do from the outside.” 

“I know debuting has taken its toll on all of you,” says Yonghoon, a touch weakly. He’s not sure what else to say. 

“I kind of don’t even want to tell you this, but whatever.” Hwanwoong shakes his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s way more anxious about the fact that you two broke up than debuting.” 

“Than _debuting?!_ Than your hectic schedules?” Yonghoon laughs loudly and nearly drops the last bit of his hotteok into a grimy city puddle. “No way. Besides, we broke up months ago.” 

“Okay, sure, but you didn’t break up because of some major disagreement, or because one of you isn’t attracted to the other anymore, or has an irritating laugh or bad breath or whatever other bullshit reasons humans give each other to move on. You broke up – _you_ broke up with _him_ – because you didn’t think you could handle dating somebody with a specific, inherent aspect of his personality – part of who he is, as a man, which he cannot change. You rejected him as a person.” Hwanwoong pauses for air. “Because he loves too much.” 

“Because he loves _you_ too much.” It slips out of Yonghoon’s mouth before he can help it. 

“Sure,” accepts the dancer, surprisingly unbothered by the correction. “But he loves ALL of us openly, physically, and it wouldn’t matter if I left – he would just find somebody else to devote all his affection toward. Because Kim Youngjo literally cannot function – he cannot exist – without an outlet for the freakish amount of love he has bubbling up inside him like a fountain.” 

Yonghoon is silent. Their path through the city streets is directing them slowly back home.

Hwanwoong sighs, then continues, “While we’re talking about it… honestly, when you two got together, I thought it was miraculous that you two had found each other. You’re also super clingy with your band members. It’s like you’re the same person, all octopus hands and dove-eyed kisses.” 

“It’s different!” protests Yonghoon, and he hates the whine he hears in his own voice. 

“Yeeeeeah, okay.” Hwanwoong’s expressive eyes look completely unconvinced. “I get the feeling you’ve said or at least thought that a lot. But is it, though? I guess the big difference is there’s a bigger age gap between you and the rest of your band members. So everyone calls you dad or whatever, and oh, it’s so cute how you dote on your children in ONEWE, how charming… but because the age gap is less in our group, people kind of… they assume it’s romantic.” 

“Isn’t it?” asks Yonghoon. “Not at all?”

“Not at all, and it never has been. I’ve seen the way Youngjo behaves around us compared to you. Sure, he kinda does the in-love puppy dog eye thing with us—” 

“With you,” cuts in Yonghoon. 

“With me,” accepts Hwanwoong, “But that’s playground stuff. When he talks about you… that’s when I think I see the real Kim Youngjo. With us, no matter how much he loves us – or me – he loves us in a combination of a personal and professional sense. There’s always a trace of Ravn merging in with the Youngjo. Always. Yes, even backstage after Sparkling Piece. With you… he’s just pure Youngjo.” 

They’ve reached their apartment building block. Yonghoon looks up at the building, recalling the cold night he kissed Youngjo right here on this sidewalk. 

“So what are you telling me?” he asks the dancer. 

“Go talk to him. That’s all. Go talk to him. You’ll see.”

“Am I allowed to? Is he taking visitors?”

Hwanwoong shrugs. “Don’t know; not my call. But you can ask, right? I mean it: go talk to him.” 

Yonghoon nods, slightly damp hair once again falling into his glasses. He doesn’t know what to say.

Finally, they look at each other and chuckle. “Let’s get inside,” says Hwanwoong. “I _really_ need a shower. Ugh.” 

They ride the elevator up in companionable, thoughtful silence. 

_____ 

_**Yonghoon:** Hey, heard you got whisked away to a medical retreat of awesomeness. Hope they’re treating you well, lots of fried chicken and strippers!_  
_**GoldiJo:** hey there stranger_  
_**Yonghoon:** Didn’t mean to be flippant. How’re you holding up?_  
_**GoldiJo:** I’ve been better_  
_**GoldiJo:** how are you?_  
_**Yonghoon:** I’ve been better, too_  
_**GoldiJo:** sorry to hear that_  
_**Yonghoon:** Don’t worry about it_

Yonghoon sighs. He closes his eyes and finds himself fidgeting his tongue against the corner of his mouth.

 _ **Yonghoon:** Are you accepting visitors?_  
_**GoldiJo:** depends who. Manager-nim can go fuck himself_  
_**Yonghoon:** I meant me, but now I’m more than a little curious what that’s all about_  
_**GoldiJo:** oh don’t worry about it _  
_**Yonghoon:** So… is that a yes on visitors?_  
_**GoldiJo:** aren’t you getting ready for re-debut? you must be so busy_  
_**Yonghoon:** Don’t worry about it_ 😊  
_**GoldiJo:** so okay, officially? no visitors_  
_**GoldiJo:** but_  
_**GoldiJo:** I dunno, if you want to come visit, I’m not going to say no_  
_**GoldiJo:** oh, but I’m not locking Sunny away_  
_**Yonghoon:** It should be fine! I even pet the little Maltese at the salon, a few months ago_  
_**GoldiJo:** did you really??? I never heard about that. I’m proud of you_  
_**Yonghoon:** Thank you. It was alright. _  
_**GoldiJo:** wow, okay, if you’re really going to visit, let me talk to my family_  
_**Yonghoon:** I don’t want to cause any friction _  
_**GoldiJo:** the hell are you talking about, it’ll be fine_  
_**Yonghoon:** Okay._

Yonghoon starts typing, _Can’t wait to see you…_ He stops, frowns at his phone, deletes the text. 

The text conversation that follows is strictly and neutrally about logistical details. 

_____ 

Youngjo’s mother opens the door. “Welcome!” 

Yonghoon bows hello. “Thank you. Pleased to meet you.” 

She introduces Yonghoon to Youngjo’s sister, then leads him to a back sunroom, where Youngjo is resting on a sofa, covered in blankets and accompanied by a small white dog. 

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen, making lunch with his sister, okay?” she tells Yonghoon, before leaving through the doorway they entered.

“Wow,” says Yonghoon, looking at the rapper. “You do kinda look terrible.” 

“Love you, too,” says Youngjo. 

They stare at each other a moment, then both burst out laughing. 

“Sorry,” says Youngjo. “Habit, or snarkiness. Or both.” 

“It’s fine.” Yonghoon grins, settling into a wicker armchair. “Seriously, though…” He takes a deep breath. “What’s going on? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but… I mean… I care.” 

“I know you do. It’s so dumb. I almost don’t want to tell you, but I will.”

“Yeah?” asks Yonghoon, heart starting to race. 

“I got mono,” says Youngjo. 

Yonghoon’s laughter explodes from inside him. “You WHAT?! The kissing disease?” Yonghoon suddenly feels his face flushing. “Not that it’s a problem if you’re kissing people—" 

But Youngjo is already speaking over him. “Hey! You can get it from other things, too! Like you know how we’re all pretty careless, drinking from everyone else’s bottles backstage.” 

“But nobody else in ONEUS got it, right?” 

“I know. But that’s what the doctors think – maybe at one of the shows we went on, or something, I probably swapped a bottle or cup with someone.” 

“Why didn’t you tell ONEUS what you got?” 

“Just embarrassed, I guess. But I definitely can’t be living in such close quarters with them all and risk them getting it, too.” 

Yonghoon just laughs and rests his head, eyes closed, against the wall behind him.

The small white dog jumps from the sofa and comes over to sniff Yonghoon. His eyes widen, but he holds his hand – only shaking a tiny bit – low in front of his legs. “Hi, Sunny,” he says, softly. The dog sniffs his hand, gives his thumb a tiny lick, and then trots back over to the sofa, curling up against Youngjo. 

Youngjo’s eyes, though bloodshot, are crinkled and kind, watching them. “See, he’s not so bad.” 

“I still can’t believe you have mono. Hwanwoong…” Yonghoon stops short.

Youngjo’s face has quickly gone alarmed. “What about him?” 

“He seems to think… something else.” 

“Christ. Fucksakes. Yeah, he caught me smoking a few cigarettes and seems to think I’m, like, on some spiral.” 

Yonghoon smiles. “I’m glad to hear – and see for my own eyes – that you’re not.” 

Youngjo considers Yonghoon. “What else? You look like there’s more to whatever you were about to say.” 

Yonghoon’s breath comes out in a half-laugh, half-sigh. He shakes his hair out of force of habit; he’s wearing contacts today, no glasses for his hair to get caught on. “He kind of hinted… that… this is going to sound so idiotic. No, never mind. Don’t even worry about it.” 

“Did he tell you I was, like, deathly lovesick over you?” asks Youngjo, mouth in a half-smile. 

“He totally did! Or at least he sort of did. He strongly suggested it!” Yonghoon had no idea he’d be doing so much laughing on this visit. And how is Youngjo just so… so himself? So direct! Yonghoon feels his body relax. But then– 

“Well, I mean, he’s not wrong.” Youngjo shrugs and rearranges his blankets, careful not to jostle Sunny off the sofa. His movements are casual, careful, but he develops a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “I’m pretty sure it weakened my immune system.” 

Yonghoon cuts his eyes to the doorway. 

“Don’t worry,” says Youngjo. “I’m sure lunch has been delayed by another cookie debate. They’ve been discussing cookie-making strategies for days. More butter, less butter, more chocolate, less chocolate – it’s a whole scientific process happening in our kitchen these days.” 

“Sounds like something Seoho would enjoy.” 

Youngjo looks at Yonghoon. “It does.”

In answer to Youngjo’s unspoken question, Yonghoon says, “I had a long talk with him the other day, for the first time in ages. I like him.” 

“Me too.” Youngjo smiles. “Me too. I’m glad you’re apparently talking to everyone in ONEUS, although it’s kind of weird you’re hanging out with all of them now I’m not there.” 

Yonghoon bites down on his lower lip. _To fill the void of your absence._ He’s spared having to respond by the arrival of Youngjo’s sister, announcing that lunch is served, but not to worry – she’ll bring through trays to the sunroom. 

The rest of Yonghoon’s visit mostly revolves around talk of ONEWE’s extremely imminent re-debut. 

Youngjo hesitates, then says, “I… I heard the song.” Yonghoon can only imagine what his own face is doing. “It’s… good.” 

“Reminisce About All?” Yonghoon clarifies, feeling stupid. But just to be sure. 

“Yeah.” 

“How? I mean, it’s not out yet…” 

Youngjo looks a bit sheepish. “Geonhak sent me one of the mixes. He sweet-talked it out of Giwook, who played it for him in his studio.” 

“And… you liked it?” Yonghoon is unsure of himself, unsure what kind of response he would like to see in his ex-boyfriend’s face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s a brilliant song, your vocals could make a marble statue weep, and the lyrics are…” Youngjo sighs. “Yeah. It’s really good.” 

Yonghoon fiddles with the wicker on his chair. “Thank you.” 

“I do have a question, though,” asks Youngjo, softly, leaning over to pet Sunny’s snowy white fur.

“Mm?” 

“Do you really feel like everything’s… everything’s a memory? In the past, only?” 

Yonghoon looks at Youngjo, forbidding himself from looking away. He flicks his tongue across his lips, then says, “Yes and no. Everything that happened… yes. It’s in the past. Everything we went through is a memory, now. I wrote it, and I sing it, because I believe it. I try to mean the things I sing and perform.” 

“I know you do. It’s one of your best qualities.”

“At the same time…” Yonghoon takes a deep breath, “No, no my feelings for you haven’t just… evaporated. They can’t. I don’t think they ever will.” 

Youngjo nods slowly. He looks tired, suddenly, and Yonghoon is reminded that he is in fact quite ill. 

“I should let you get some rest.” 

“Yeah. That’s probably best. Okay, but… one more question.” Youngjo cuddles a blanket up to his chest.

Yonghoon leans forward in his chair. 

Youngjo hesitates for just a moment. “If… If I told you I had figured out that the way I love Hwanwoong – or anybody else – might be unusual, and powerful, but it isn’t and could never be romantic… would you believe me?” 

Their eyes are locked for several seconds before Yonghoon blinks and nods. “Yes,” he confirms. “I would.” 

Despite the sallow tone of Youngjo’s face, the brilliance of his smile illuminates not only his features but the entirety of the sunroom itself. 

“Good to know,” says the rapper – eyes returning, at last, to their feline, bedroom shape – heart-shaped lips flushed and slightly parted with the effort of breathing. 

His exhaustion apparent, he settles back deeper into the sofa. 

Even here, even now… He looks perfect. _Perfect._

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be much shorter. I promise, on my honor as a Sea Monster!


	28. The End?

Yonghoon gets back home just after dark, to a worried quartet of faces. 

“Is he okay, hyung? Are you okay?” Their voices spill over each other in a concerned, tumbling rush, before he’s even made it past the apartment’s entryway. 

“ONEWE!” exclaims Yonghoon. “Family! Let me get my shoes off, at least.”

“He’s grinning,” says Harin. “Why would you be grinning?”

“Did you guys fuck?! They totally fucked,” says Dongmyeong, hands clasped in delight under his chin. 

“NO, we did not fuck!” Yonghoon looks at them in disbelief. “He is ill! Ill enough to be on hiatus!” 

“Oh, we kind of came to the conclusion that that was bogus,” admits Giwook. “So he really is ill?”

“Why would it be bogus?” asks Yonghoon. 

“Everyone!” says Hyungu. “C’mon, let’s give him some space. Catch your breath, and then let’s all sit down and compare notes.” 

“Notes?” Yonghoon shakes his head in confusion, but everyone else is already nodding and heading to the low table.

They all settle down and look at each other. Dongmyeong’s dimple starts to make an appearance, but before the keyboardist can speak, Yonghoon cuts him off. “We are NOT busting out the special tea tonight. That shit is expensive! We can save it for after re-debut, okay?”

Dongmyeong sighs and nods. 

“Okay,” says Giwook. “You first, hyung. What’s the story with Youngjo?” 

Yonghoon looks at his bandmates and sighs. “I’m going to try a crazy thing, now. A Youngjo-like thing. I’m going to respect his privacy!” He laughs. “I know, not our usual style, but I’m giving it a go, okay? Anyway… yes, he’s ill, and yes, he’ll be fine. He’s getting treatment and he’ll be back as soon as he can. End of story.”

They all look… disappointed? A bit, maybe. 

“So. Your turn. What happened while I was gone for all of… not even a full day?” 

They look around at each other expectantly, until Dongmyeong collapses in giggles. “Hyungu, you tell him.”

Hyungu takes a deep breath. “We thought he was like… being punished. For punching Manager Gwangmin.” 

“What?!” Yonghoon’s mouth falls open. Well, this did not come up on their visit, but then… well, they never did address that text of Youngjo’s. 

“Yeah!” says Dongmyeong, apparently deciding he does want to tell the story after all. “Keonhee told us all about it! So, I guess Manager-nim said that…” Dongmyeong’s voice trails off. 

Giwook picks up the trail. “Apparently Manager Gwangmin told Youngjo that he needed to stop moping over you, basically said some mean stuff about how you weren’t worth it, and he would get plenty of hot female pussy as an idol…” 

“And Youngjo decked him!” Dongmyeong finishes, eyes alight. “Right in their living room, just *POW!* to the face!” He mimes a punch at Harin, who flinches but laughs.

Hyungu opens his mouth, but Giwook speaks again. “And this was all pretty much right before he went on medical hiatus. The ONEUS members hadn’t told anybody about it, and they figured Manager-nim’s pride wouldn’t let him tell anyone. So they thought it must be a mental health thing, that Youngjo was just depressed or something…”

Dongmyeong cuts in again, “Until today, because then today Manager Gwangmin’s things were suddenly gone from the apartment when they came back from rehearsal, and they got a message saying they were getting a new manager. So then they decided most likely Gwangmin had complained and Youngjo had been sent away, or… or something.” 

“Okay, well… I can’t figure out how this is all supposed to have played out,” says Yonghoon. “But all I can tell you is he really is ill. And also,” he adds, “Fuck Manager Gwangmin, fuck him right in the earballs.” 

They all laugh, then simmer down. 

“But… but what is an earball?” asks Hyungu.

Yonghoon reaches over and, by way of answer, covers Hyungu in kisses, on every exposed surface, until the guitarist is blessed by thousands of pinpricks of leader-love fairydust. 

_____ 

ONEWE’s re-debut is moderately quiet; they’re not going to promote on music shows. Not yet, anyway. There’s always a tension between music shows – not wanting to trust that all of the instrumentation will work on a live broadcast – and bands, who want to play their instruments live. 

But the songs and music videos are well-received, especially by the people who matter most to the band. 

They immediately start working on another batch of songs. The ONEWE members collaborate on ideas, as always. Giwook starts writing a rap for one of Hyungu’s creations – a beautiful, wistful song with a distinctly nocturnal feeling.

The creative productivity feels like home to Yonghoon. This is all he’s ever wanted: a life in music, surrounded by loved ones. 

_____ 

Youngjo comes back from illness and immediately launches into promotion with ONEUS. 

ONEUS flies to Italy, to record a music video in an ornate, old villa. He sends pictures to Yonghoon. Pictures of the food, the streets, the scenery, and even – or especially – of himself, with cheesy captions. 

They make it back to Korea without issue, and Yonghoon misses the daily selfie texts. Sure, the scenery might not be so exotic, but the personal subject material – Youngjo – still interests him.

At any rate, Youngjo also is immersed in creating music – music with people he loves. Deeply, passionately, unusually. Purely. 

Yonghoon thinks so anyway. 

No… he _knows_ so. 

_____ 

Yonghoon has been in daily text contact with Youngjo since the sunroom hiatus visit. After the ONEUS members are back from Italy, they occasionally bump into each other in the company or apartment building, always happy to stop and chat for a moment. Yonghoon tries not to let his hand rest on Youngjo’s arm too long; tries not to seem clingy or wistful or nostalgic or desperate. 

He’s not sure he’s succeeding. 

_____ 

One night, at the end of a long day of practice in the basement rehearsal space, Dongmyeong says, “Hyung, I won’t be home tonight, okay?” 

Yonghoon looks at the pixielike, mischievous face in front of him. “Got a date?” 

“Mm-hrmm!” Dongmyeong nods happily. “See you tomorrow!” He starts to pack up his many, voluminous bags. Watching him, Yonghoon thinks – not for the first time – that Jun must be the most patient man in the world.

“Me, too, Yonghoon-hyung,” says Giwook, looking at him with his trademark side-eyed smile. 

“You have a date?! With whom?” asks Yonghoon.

“Me!” mumbles Hyungu, packing up his own supplies. He stands up straight. “Well, not like… a _date_ date, but we’re going to head home until tomorrow, just catch up with family and hang out. That’s cool, right?” 

Yonghoon looks at Giwook, then Hyungu, then Giwook. Well, the two of them _have_ grown closer the last year. “I mean… sure. We’ve all worked hard lately. Be safe getting there and back, and tell everyone I say hello, okay?” 

“Will do!” says Giwook, and he smirks at Hyungu. 

Yonghoon feels like an idiot, because beyond sensing that something is afoot, he can’t figure out what’s going on – not at all. The guitarist and bassist leave the room, chuckling together at… who-knows-what?

He turns to Harin, to say, “Guess it’s just us two tonight!” – but before he can speak, Harin says, “That sounds like a great idea! Maybe I’ll go see my family, too! I mean, if we’re all getting a late start tomorrow anyway, right?” 

“Are you all abandoning me?” Yonghoon can’t keep the bewilderment out of his face. “Harin, do you want company…? I haven’t seen your family in ages.”

“No, no!” says Harin. “They’re, uh, they’re doing renovations, and they’re a bit sensitive about others seeing the house right now.”

“Okay, listen. If I lie in that apartment alone all night and some ghost swings by, and I scream myself to death… I hope you’re sorry.”

Harin gives Yonghoon a light punch on the arm. “You’ll be fine. You’re our fearless leader, remember?”

Yonghoon just gives Harin a Look. “You too,” he finally says. “Be safe out there.”

_____ 

Yonghoon closes his front door and freezes. He is immediately struck by two things: 

1\. Why is the lighting so strange?   
2\. Why does it smell like plums? 

If Dongju broke in using Dongmyeong’s door-code again, and has let Seoho in to do some weird, culinary science experiment– 

But then he sees it. Candlelight. 

Candlelight, and a sheepish-looking Youngjo, sitting alone at the low table, right in the common area of the ONEWE apartment. 

The table has been set with fabric placemats, nice china, beautiful silverware, and wine glasses. A pitcher of water is also on the table, western-style. It’s set for two.

Yonghoon gawps, speechless.

“Sorry,” shrugs Youngjo. “They were out of unscented candles. Hope you don’t mind plum.” 

Yonghoon walks to the table and sits down, head swimming in dim candlelight, plums, and the knowledge that Kim Youngjo is just… here, in his home. Waiting for him? 

“Have you been waiting for me?” asks Yonghoon. 

“Nah, I’m here for Hyungu. He should be home soon. Want some water while we wait?” Youngjo pours some water into a glass and then offers it to Yonghoon. 

Yonghoon recovers some of his senses at last and says, “You jerk. You absolute jerk.” But he laughs and accepts the water. 

Sipping the water, he notices, through the dim candlelight, that Youngjo is wearing a long-sleeved, yellow-and-black striped shirt. A lock of hair – an errant, perfect, wavy lock of hair, is peeking out from Youngjo’s ear. 

“I had a whole speech planned out,” says the rapper. “But now you’re here and it seems silly. Like all I want to do is talk to you normally, the way I want to do every day for the rest of my life.” Yonghoon swallows his water and looks at Youngjo, who clears his throat before continuing. “I know technically you broke up with me, and you haven’t retracted it. So… maybe you still don’t want to be with me. I’ve tried to prepare myself for that possibility. But I have to be honest here, I might really die of lovesickness, if that’s the case.” 

The candles flicker gently in the quiet breaths of the two men.

“Did you really punch Manager Gwangmin?” asks Yonghoon. 

Youngjo laughs. “I did! He said some extremely derogatory things not only about you but about women. I thought I was going to just report him, do things the right way… but then he saw me hold back my punch, and he called me afraid.” 

Yonghoon smiles. “And it turns out… you weren’t afraid, just angry.” 

Youngjo returns the smile, brushing his hair from his eyes. “I wasn’t afraid. Just angry.” He takes a sip of his water. “And _then_ I reported it, and thank all the elder gods, they were totally on my side on this one, once they heard what he said. The stress of it all probably weakened my immune system a bit, because I was pretty much a goner the next day.”

“Wait, did you tell them… about me?” 

“Yes, I did. But, well, they already knew. Nobody cares. Unless, it turns out, people are out to hurt us – any of us! ONEUS and ONEWE, both. They do actually care. It’s worlds apart from my last agency.” Youngjo shakes his head, looking down. 

Yonghoon has another sip of water, then smiles a half-smile. “So, we just going to have water tonight, or what?” 

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry. Sit right there! We’ve got jeyuk bokkeum – and omelets, too.” 

They eat and chat – about Italy, about music, their families – everything. Everything except… 

Youngjo suddenly puts down his wine glass. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply before reopening them. “Please tell me,” he says. “Please just either break my heart or accept me, because otherwise, I’m going to crumble into a million little pieces of human confetti, and we both know you hate vacuuming. Cleaning me up off the floor is going to be a nightmare.” 

Yonghoon puts down his plate of food. He unfolds his long legs, stands up, moves to the other side of the table, and sits down behind Youngjo, legs on either side of his body. He wraps his arms around the rapper and bends down to nibble on his ear. He presses a kiss against that soft, rebellious, beautiful little lock of hair. 

“I love you,” says Yonghoon. “And I always will. I love your Mickey Mouse shirt,” he pauses to kiss the ear, “I love your deeply sexy, bedroom eyes” – _kiss_ – “I love that you didn’t make fun of Harin’s dancing, the day we met” – _kiss_ – “and I love that you texted me selfies of yourself from a majestic, European villa, in which you completely blocked out the historic statues, but made sure your own duckface pout was in focus.” Youngjo laughs and starts to protest, defending his honor, but Yonghoon cuts him off. “No, I said I loved it, and I meant it. Everything about you is perfect, and I will try to never, ever take you for granted again.” 

Youngjo turns around to face Yonghoon, in the process knocking over half the items on the low table. They quickly scramble to ensure no tipped-over candles are dripping wax onto the floor, laughing into each other’s arms in the now even more dimly lit, plum-scented room. 

“So what now?” asks Yonghoon, once they’ve settled back down on the floor. 

“Well, we could swear some sort of oath – to always be true or whatnot.” 

“You know, I don’t even think I care anymore about that – as long as I’m always the one you come home to, if you know what I mean. Just… everywhere you go, remember us. Remember _me._ ”

“Whoa,” says Youngjo, eyes wide. “I hadn’t even considered what you are implying. But okay, for now – I can for sure say that yes: I will always remember us, and you. I want you to always be the person I come home to. And vice versa, because we both know it’s only a matter of time before ONEWE’s travel schedule gets to be just as crazy as ours.” 

Yonghoon smiles at him. “I accept.” He leans forward and kisses Youngjo – a deep, soft kiss. Kissing Youngjo feels both completely fresh and exciting… and yet totally familiar, like coming home. He could drown in this kiss forever, letting the taste of Youngjo fill his every sensory pathway with deep blue stars – letting the scent of Youngjo become part of the fabric of his own body. He holds Youngjo’s arms in his hands, hoping to imprint the feel of the striped shirt in his fingertips, forever, against the ravages of life and experience.

They wash the dishes together and attempt to scrape the molten candlewax off the table. “Man, Giwook is going to be so pissed,” says Yonghoon, bending over to scrub the tabletop. “Did you know he’s kind of a neat freak?” 

There’s no response, and Yonghoon looks up from his scrubbing.

“Ummm,” says Youngjo. “I’m sorry, I think you just asked me something…? I have no clue what it was, though. I was too busy looking at your butt.” 

Yonghoon straightens himself up and laughs, jabbing Youngjo in the tummy. Youngjo erupts into a flurry of high-pitched giggles. 

“I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?” asks Yonghoon. 

“I’m not!” says his boyfriend. “Just… happy.” 

They get ready for bed together. “Shit, I forgot my toothbrush,” says Youngjo. 

“Well, it’s not like yours is far away,” laughs Yonghoon. “You want to go get it?” 

“Oh, you know what would be hilarious? We should have _you_ go and get it!” They both descend into giggles, looking at each other through the mirror. 

In the end, Youngjo just uses Yonghoon’s toothbrush. “Not like we won’t be sharing just as many germs soon, anyway,” says Youngjo. 

“Ever the romantic,” teases Yonghoon. But his heart races.

“You know, I’ve never had you in my own bed, before, have I?” asks Yonghoon, as they enter the bedroom the singer shares with Harin and Hyungu. 

Youngjo answers him with a kiss – passionate, driving, and not, for one millisecond, fucking around. 

To Yonghoon, the message is clear: every second together, from now on, _counts._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THE END**
> 
> ❤️
> 
> But, but... But SunriseSeaMonster, what about Chapters 29+30? 
> 
> Sure! If you're the kind of person to stick around and watch the end credits roll, there will be two entirely self-indulgent epilogues. One is sexytimes explicit, 18+, all that jazz - for my fellow shameless adult fic readers. 
> 
> The other is a sillier epilogue - outtakes, in a sense. Wanting more follow-up on some supporting characters in this story? Stick around - they might yet make a cameo appearance! 
> 
> Also, I'm compiling a list of reference materials I used, since I know some of you had expressed interest in this. Dates, clips, screenshots, videos, etc. Caution: it's a lot. I'll most likely just slap it onto a Google doc and then provide the link.
> 
> \----- 
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for making my very first fic-publishing experience a tremendously positive one. I've updated my bio with my Twitter handle. Find me there, or leave me a comment on this story! <3


	29. Epilogue the First: What Happens in Japan Stays in Japan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT.**
> 
> **Please feel free to skip to the final chapter (Chapter 30) if you wish to avoid explicit adult content.**
> 
> Thank you! 
> 
> * * * * * * *

**February, 2020**

“Fly With Us: Final” is the name of the show series, but Youngjo thinks they should have just named it “WeUs Acting Like 11 Crazy-ass Motherfuckers” and been done with it. He knows how this is going to go. 

There’s a bit of a room swap, now that ONEWE have arrived in Japan. As expected, Dongju moves out of the room he’s been sharing with Geonhak and into a room with Dongmyeong. For all their bickering, the twins are inseparable. Youngjo used to think it was almost creepy, but then he’s never had a twin. Maybe it’s normal. Anyway, having Dongmyeong here will give Dongju somebody fresh to pester, giving poor Geonhak a bit of a break.

Another expected shuffle, completely a foregone conclusion amongst the members of both ONEWE and ONEUS: Youngjo moves out of the room he’s been sharing with Seoho, who will now room with Geonhak. 

Black cap slung low over his brow, Youngjo hoists his black duffel bag on his shoulder and exits his old room. He walks several paces down the corridor, takes the elevator up one level, and finds his new room number on the other side of the building. He taps the new hotel room keycard against the door lock. The front desk agent had smiled so innocently and prettily making this keycard, asking if there were anything wrong with the old room that caused the room change. _Nope._

He shifts his bag on his shoulder, taps the keycard at a better angle. Three small green buttons light up, and the door clicks open. 

Youngjo sets the duffel bag down on the bed – one giant, king-sized bed, not two small beds, thank God – and takes stock of the room. 

Microwave, check. Fridge, check. Ice bucket? No, but he can probably call down for one. That was one cool thing about the American hotels. Closet…? _Hrmm._ He takes his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair, setting the cap down on the bed. He walks over to the closet and runs his fingers along the rod inside. The clothing hangers hanging from the rod are the fancy kind, heavy and wooden. He takes them all off the rod and sets them down on the small folding chair, inside the closet. 

He bites his lip. “Here goes,” he mutters to himself, testing the rod gently with his fingertips. 

He grabs the rod with his other hand also, then does one slow chin-up – thankful that he’s been working out a bit more with Geonhak, lately. Not as much as Dongmyeong, of course, who – to everyone’s surprise – has decided he likes hitting the gym with his brother’s fuckbuddy. Man, everything about that kid is weird. Well, not any weirder than Dongju, but still.

Okay – Youngjo wiggles slightly, side to side, swinging his legs gently in the air. This metal bar is not going anywhere. Good. 

Youngjo drops softly down again, releasing the clothing hanger rod. Good, solid, earthquake-proof Japanese hotel construction. This is gonna be just fine. 

He sits down on the bed and takes out the paper envelope enclosing his new key card, trying to memorize the new room number. He tries to remember who’s in the room next door. One of the makeup artists, he thinks. Which one? Jangmi? Yeah, probably. He hopes so. She’s very easygoing, and they’ve swapped war stories on occasion – even shared a few tips learned along the way, when they’re sure nobody’s in earshot to get overly scandalized. She’s not gonna freak out.

Nodding to himself, he strips off his clothing and heads to the bathroom to get showered. ONEWE’s initial stage checks should be done soon, and he needs to get ready. 

_____ 

Youngjo is just trying to decide where to put the freshly-filled ice bucket when there’s a soft knock on the door. He moves to the door, but before he reaches it, the sound of the electronic lock clicks gently. The door opens slowly, almost tentatively. 

Yonghoon’s brilliant smile appears in the doorway, and Youngjo’s heart nearly explodes through his sternum. 

“Hey, Beanpole,” says Youngjo. “Welcome home.” 

Yonghoon’s long legs carry him from door to bed in 3 strides. He sets his bag down on the bed and turns to Youngjo, all twinkling eyes and spirit-soaring smile. 

It’s funny. Sometimes Youngjo thinks he’s going to play it cool – this time, _this time_ – but he never, ever can.

“God, you’re beautiful,” breathes Youngjo. 

Yonghoon laughs and leans in, gives him a quick kiss on the forehead. “You, uh, need ice for something?” asks the singer. How is his voice such an unbelievable mix of velvety low tones and bubbling, higher register – sometimes all in the same sentence? 

Youngjo looks down at his hands to see he is, in fact, still holding the ice bucket. “Let me put this down.” He places it on the desk, careful not to dislodge the red lacquered box already sitting on the desktop. 

He turns around to see Yonghoon taking his shoes off. “I should have left these by the door,” says Yonghoon, “But I guess I got distracted.”

“You hungry?” asks Youngjo. “If I have any more cup ramen I’m going to scream. I was thinking we could get room service.”

“Sounds great!” agrees Yonghoon, voice lilting and excited. 

They eat their dinner on the floor and catch each other up on show preparations. 

Yonghoon sets his bowl down and sighs. “This is nice,” he says. “We should do more traveling together.”

“Mmm,” Youngjo says through a spoonful of soup. He looks at Yonghoon and cocks his head to the side.

“What are you thinking?” asks Yonghoon, uncrossing and refolding his legs to the side.

Youngjo swallows his soup before answering. “How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty great, now that I’m settled in and got some dinner. How about you?”

Youngjo looks at the way Yonghoon’s hair is falling in his face, and one delicate hand is resting on his knee, long fingers fiddling with the fabric of his jeans. 

“Hungry,” says Youngjo, fixing his gaze intently on his boyfriend. “I’m feeling real fucking ravenous right about now.” 

Yonghoon laughs – one of his full-bodied, room-quivering laughs. “But we just ate dinner!” 

“Not what I meant.” It’s not a creative line, but he loves seeing Yonghoon’s face flush, as another superpowered smile blossoms across his face. 

“You’re so cheesy,” says Yonghoon, but neither the smile nor the rosy cheeks fade. 

Youngjo finishes his soup and stacks his bowl on Yonghoon’s. He stands up and moves their dinner debris to a tray, then walks to the hotel room door. “Mind getting the door?”

Yonghoon springs up and opens the door, and Youngjo sets the tray of dishes on the carpeted hotel corridor. They let the door close and are suddenly inches apart, in the cramped entryway to the hotel room. 

Youngjo reaches up one hand to Yonghoon’s face. “You’re going to need to get a lot of rest, before these shows.” He traces one hand along Yonghoon’s chin, then rests his palm against the singer’s upper chest.

“What if I’m uninterested in rest?” God, this man and his coquettish attitude. 

“If that’s a challenge to wear you out…” Youngjo moves both hands to the small of Yonghoon’s back and pulls him in closer, kissing him with practiced, intense familiarity. Yonghoon tastes of soup – and smells of a long day. 

Youngjo nuzzles his nose against his boyfriend’s. “Want a bath?” 

“Oh, do I smell gross?” 

“I’d still do you.” Youngjo grins. “But you’ve had a long day of travel and show set-up, right?” 

“I would actually love a shower… or yes, a bath,” admits Yonghoon. _Excellent._

“Well, go sit down for a bit; I’ll run you a bath,” says Youngjo. He walks to the bathroom, turns the knobs above the tub, then walks back out to the bedroom.

Yonghoon flops down onto the bed, dangling his legs down off the front. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. Youngjo can’t resist walking over, leaning down, and giving him a gentle kiss in the crook of his neck. Yonghoon purrs but keeps his eyes closed.

“Hot water’s running. I’ll come grab you when the tub is full. Don’t fall asleep!” 

“Mmmm.” Yonghoon doesn’t open his eyes.

 _Oh, boy._ Well, Youngjo has his ways of waking up his lover, if it comes to that. At any rate… he quietly opens the red lacquered box and extracts a bag of scarlet-red rose petals. He hadn’t exactly known what he was going to do with them when he packed them, but they seemed like a smart thing to bring along. 

The bathtub is nearly full of piping hot water, scented delicately with an herbal bath soaking powder.

He scatters rose petals on the bathwater, first a couple, then a few more… maybe a few more? He finally decides to just cover the whole bathroom in them. How many petals are even in this little baggie?! 

Okay, now it looks almost deranged, like somebody murdered a rose plantation, or there was an explosion at the potpourri factory. Damn. He starts trying to clear a path to the tub when he hears a distinctly velvety, silvered little giggle behind him. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” says Yonghoon. “This is _beautiful,_ and I feel so bad for spoiling the surprise. But I really have to pee.” 

Youngjo scrambles to his feet. “No, no, go right ahead!” He walks out of the bathroom and puts the now-empty bag into the trash can. 

Yonghoon opens the bathroom door and says, “This is a really huge bathtub.” 

“I know! I think I got a major room upgrade, because the front desk agent thought I was unhappy with the other room – the one I was sharing with Seoho.” 

“It’s, like… _really_ big,” says Yonghoon, stripping off his t-shirt. Youngjo stares at his thin, muscled frame. The singer is a little slender for his height, but he has an amazing physique – taut and graceful, somehow, not gangly.

Yonghoon undoes his belt, takes off his jeans, and puts his clothing on top of the dresser. He walks back to the bathroom in his underwear. Which…

“Beanpole,” asks Youngjo, following him to the bathroom. “Are you wearing boxers with Hello Kitty on them?” 

“Ha! I didn’t expect to ever wear them, but I realized too late I had packed all my preferred underwear in the suitcase already. Yonghee gave me these for Christmas. I love his sense of humor.” Yonghoon leans over to test the bathtub water. 

“Only you would say that about him.” Youngjo shakes his head. Yonghoon’s patience with his loved ones is endless.

Yonghoon pulls down his boxers and steps into the bathtub, eyes fluttering as he sinks into the steaming, beautifully scented water. “Holy shit. You should join me; this is great.”

It wasn’t the original plan, but Youngjo finds himself stripping off his own clothing. It _is_ an almost embarrassingly large tub. He steps into the hot water and lets the scented steam fill his airways. 

They giggle a bit, trying to find the right configuration for their tangle of legs. 

Youngjo grabs a red rose petal and carefully places it on top of Yonghoon’s head. “It’s a hat.” 

Yonghoon’s silvery peal of laughter dislodges the petal, and it falls back into the bathtub with a surprising impact, not like a feather at all. 

They take turns bathing each other, then dry each other with gigantic, fluffy bath towels – nothing like the smaller, rougher rectangles they’re used to using at home. 

Yonghoon wraps his fluffy bath towel around both of them, pressing their warmed, slightly damp bodies together. Youngjo feels his breath catch in his throat – and the blood starting to rush to his dick. 

“Maybe this is paradise?” asks Yonghoon, resting his chin on Youngjo’s shoulder. Youngjo tries to keep his thoughts straight, but instead of responding with words, he turns his head and lands a soft bite on Yonghoon’s neck. 

Yonghoon’s hold on the giant bath towel loosens as he shivers, and Youngjo feels his boyfriend’s hardening dick pressed against his own. 

“Hey, Beanpole?” says Youngjo. “How much rest do you exactly insist on getting?” 

Yonghoon shakes his damp hair, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge it from his face. Youngjo snakes a hand up and smooths it back for him. 

“I want to make love to you so hard and loud that they consider deporting us,” says Yonghoon. 

Youngjo grins. “I’ll see what I can do, then.” 

He steers Yonghoon over to the bed, dropping the towel on the floor as they lie on top of the bedcovers. He sinks a soft kiss onto Yonghoon’s waiting, pouting lips. Youngjo rests some of his weight on his forearm, not wanting to squash his slender boyfriend, but Yonghoon pulls him closer. “You know I’m stronger than I look,” admonishes the singer. 

Youngjo laughs softly. “Okay, hang on one second. Don’t get too cold.” He stands up onto the floor and crosses the room, grabs the red lacquered box, and returns to the bed, setting the box on the nightstand. 

“You have a box of treasures?”

“Do I ever. But actually, hang on, speaking of it being cold… we just took a bath, and I don’t want you shivering. Let me crank up the heat.”

Youngjo finds the remote for the hotel room’s climate control system and presses the little UP arrow several times, until he hears the heating system awaken with a whirr. 

“Okay,” he says, sinking back down to Yonghoon. “Where were we?” 

“Your box of treasures, I believe, my Goldilocks.” 

“Ah, yes, quite right.” Youngjo grins. “But let me just taste you all over, first.” 

He kisses Yonghoon’s beautiful face – truly, he’s never seen anything lovelier – then sucks on his ears and neck, nibbling at his lover’s delicate, bath-soft skin. “Don’t you give me any hickies,” cautions Yonghoon, as Youngjo starts gnawing at his shoulder, relishing the smooth, round contour in his mouth. 

“Whatever. Jangmi’s on this trip. She can hide anything with concealer.” But Youngjo tries to ease up the force of his oral attentions, at least in exposed areas. 

He kisses all down Yonghoon’s side, and the singer moans softly. It’s the most beautiful sound Youngjo has ever heard, and that’s saying a lot for someone in the music industry. 

Youngjo rests his hands on Yonghoon’s waist, appreciating the gentle curve. “Have I mentioned how much I like your waist?” he asks. 

“Yes, but I’m not tired of hearing about it.” 

“Mmm,” says Youngjo. He keeps his hands where they are and leans down to plant a lush kiss on one of Yonghoon’s nipples. The singer gasps and arches his back under Youngjo’s mouth. 

Youngjo feels the nipple harden in his mouth and presses his tongue against it, gratified to hear Yonghoon’s high-pitched whine building in his ears. He lifts his face gently and repeats the process on the other side, feeling Yonghoon’s waist tremble in his hands. 

He pauses and looks down, noticing that his cock is already dripping gentle droplets of pre-cum onto Yonghoon’s thighs. “Sorry if I make you messy.” 

“You _know_ that is not one of my concerns right now,” breathes Yonghoon, running one hand through the rapper’s hair. 

And sure enough, Youngjo sees that Yonghoon’s own beautiful, pink cock is also leaking slightly. 

He moves slightly down the bed and uses his fingers to slick the pre-cum down the shaft a bit, before planting a kiss at the base of Yonghoon’s dick. 

“I’m not going to suck you off right now,” says Youngjo. 

“Okay. Anything we do is magical, anyway,” says Yonghoon, velvety voiced. “You make me see purple and blue meteors.” 

Youngjo pauses. “You want to try anal beads?” 

Yonghoon laughs, surprised. “Sure!” 

Youngjo reaches for the red box. He opens the lid and withdraws a bottle of water-based lube, as well as a blue silicone string of beads, with a handle at one end. He squirts a glob of lube onto his fingers, then reaches between Yonghoon’s thighs, gently finding the singer’s waiting hole. He massages lube in soft circles and hears a shift in Yonghoon’s breathing. Youngjo’s own hardness throbs. 

He gently inserts a lubed finger into the hole and watches Yonghoon’s face scrunch up as he whines, voice rising over the sound of the heating system. The rapper withdraws his finger, lubes up the anal beads, and slowly inserts the first bulb into the hole, watching his boyfriend’s face.

“You good?” he asks Yonghoon. 

“So good.” He does look pretty pleased.

“You ready for another?” 

“Yes.” 

Youngjo eases in the second, slightly bigger bead. Yonghoon’s hand clings to his shoulder, fingernails digging in tightly. 

Youngjo tries to steady his own breathing. “You want to try the vibrating function?”

“It VIBRATES?” 

“Yeah! Sure does.” Youngjo grins. Apparently he can still find ways to surprise his boyfriend, after all. 

“I… yeah! Yeah, let’s try it.” Yonghoon giggles. 

Youngjo turns on the vibrating function to its lowest setting. Yonghoon’s moans become loud enough that Youngjo is grateful no members of either group are in a neighboring room. 

He turns off the vibration. “Sounds like you need a break.” 

“No, no,” gasps Yonghoon. “Oh, fuck, that feels amazing.” Sure enough, his cock’s dribble of pre-cum has turned into a steadier stream. 

“You want me to turn it back on?” 

“No,” says Yonghoon, “I want _you._ ” 

Youngjo slowly pulls the anal beads out, one at a time – each punctuated by a loud, dynamic moan in his boyfriend’s exceptionally powerful voice. 

“God, I love you so, so much,” he tells the singer, feeling nearly overcome with love, lust, and appreciation. 

“Then get your cock inside me already, Goldilocks! I assure you, I’m ready.” 

“Never change, Beanpole,” says Youngjo. He bends down to kiss Yonghoon lavishly, letting his tongue feel every millimeter of Yonghoon’s lips, tongue, and mouth. 

He sits up, applies a condom and lube to his now-aching erection, and lines himself up with Yonghoon’s entrance. 

“Okay, baby,” he says. 

“Yes,” confirms Yonghoon. 

Youngjo slides his cock slowly into Yonghoon’s entrance; the singer wasn’t kidding. He _is_ ready. Still, Youngjo takes his time. 

Yonghoon’s cries, like everything else about the man, are melodic and loud. 

Youngjo can’t hold back a loud whine of his own, feeling his cock tightly embraced by Yonghoon’s warm walls. 

“I don’t think I can go slowly today, baby,” he says. 

“FUCK ME. HARD!” Yonghoon yells. 

Well, who wouldn’t oblige? 

Youngjo thrusts harder, deeper, and stronger into Yonghoon, every nerve in his body completely and utterly on fire.

Their escalation of cries nearly harmonizes in a wordless crescendo of pleasure, until the beats go akilter and the tempo goes ragged. 

“Gonna come,” Yonghoon manages to say, somehow, before releasing a torrent of white-hot cum onto his own abdomen. 

The sight of it, and the sensation of Yonghoon’s walls clenching around his cock, push Youngjo over the edge. He comes hard, nearly screaming, filling the condom and curling his hands tightly around Yonghoon’s hips. He groans, riding out the wave, as Yonghoon whimpers. 

They both pant, hot by now, as the heating unit continues to pump warm air into their hotel room. Youngjo pulls out of Yonghoon, removes the condom, ties it off, and wraps it in many layers of tissues before throwing it into the wastebasket by the desk. 

“Stay right there,” he tells Yonghoon – not that the singer looks fit to move any time in the next hour or century. 

He dampens two washcloths with hot water and comes back to bed. 

Once they’re in a relatively clean state again, they slip under the covers, still naked, to cuddle. 

Yonghoon spoons Youngjo from behind, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. This might, in fact, be paradise. 

“Hey, Beanpole? Hang on one second, just going to grab my phone and set an alarm.” Youngjo reluctantly slides out of the cozy bed and sees his phone on the desk.

“An alarm?” 

“I intend to wake you up in an hour, once you’ve had a moment to recharge. I don’t believe we’ve fucked hard or loud enough to get deported, and I’m a man of my word. The night is young.” 

He fiddles with his phone, standing next to the bed.

Yonghoon lets out a little half-laugh, throwing his head back onto the soft, white pillow. “Absolutely right.” He turns onto his side again. As he props himself up on an elbow, looking at Youngjo, his eyes appear to catch on something behind the rapper. 

“Goldilocks?” 

“Yeah?” says Youngjo, climbing back under the covers. He reaches one hand out and turns out the lights.

“What… what is that in the closet?” 

Youngjo presses his back against Yonghoon’s chest, trying to maximize the contact between their soft, warm bodies. He grins into the darkness. 

“Want to try a sex swing?”


	30. Epilogue the Second: Snapshots

**Summer, 2019**

Yonghoon reads through some of the comments on the music video for Regulus. He understands a little bit of English, but not much. Still, with the help of translation software, he gets the main drift, and the main drift is: 

_People **love** it._

A few comments wonder how the main vocalist can put so much emotion into what he sings. 

Yonghoon looks from his end of the sofa to the other, where Youngjo is curled up at his feet, reading a book and lost to the world. 

Yonghoon smiles. He closes the comment section, puts down his phone, and reaches over to play with his lover’s soft, wavy hair. 

His life is the fucking best.

_____ 

Park Minkyoung clicks on the video her friend sent her. Whatever. She’s not even into bands, she’s just humoring her annoying friend. Bands are boring. Who has time for…

Except… 

They’re actually really good…? God, that lead singer, those neck veins… holy fuck, they’re _all_ really hot. HOLY SHIT, that high note? The blond guitarist, against that dark, starry night backdrop? 

WAIT. 

WAIT JUST A FUCKING SECOND. 

A vision – a memory – passes over Minkyoung’s eyes – that stunning, tall vocalist, holding a blue suede sneaker to his ear. The hot guitarist, with darker hair back then, holding a wingtip oxford to his own face. 

Minkyoung’s elbow knocking over what felt like thousands of shoeboxes onto the floor, which she then had to pick up and sort back onto the correct shelves. So dumb.

Minkyoung feels woozy. This can’t be real.

Jesus. And those assholes didn’t even end up buying anything. Ugh. She should boycott them. 

Right… right after she plays this music video just one more time.

_____ 

“Welcome to The Golden Lair. You will call me Master-Nim.”

“Yes, Master-Nim.” The client keeps her eyes on the dark, burgundy carpet.

“It’s not your first visit. You are familiar with the rules?”

“Yes, Master-Nim.” 

“Please indicate your knowledge of the safety color scheme.” He stares at his client, keen for any signs of discomfort or fear.

“Green, Yellow, and Red, Master-Nim.” She sounds confident and steady. Maybe even a bit cheeky. Good – that makes this more fun for everyone.

Master-Nim checks over the clipboard. “You have signed the appropriate waiver for whip play. Have you experienced whip play before?”

“No, Master-Nim.” Is that a smile he hears in her voice? With her downcast face, her hair covers her expression. But it sure sounded like a smile.

It’s going to be a fun night. He’s going to make a lot of money on this one, he can tell. 

Good thing, too. Drumsticks are expensive. 

_____ 

Hyungu’s been getting some looks, lately. Not the way Yonghoon gets looks, that sort of perpetual flutter in sidewalk traffic – where girls pretend they’re not staring before descending into giggles with their friends… but still. 

Part of it’s probably the hair. He digs it. He digs being blond, and he kinda digs the looks.

But right now… well, he’s uncomfortable with the looks this salesgirl is giving him. 

All he wants is a new pair of sneakers. 

This isn’t the same grumpy, teenaged salesgirl from two years ago, is it? It _couldn’t_ be. She wouldn’t still be working here. 

If it is her, she’s gotten real cute, though. No denying that. 

If she stops staring at him like he’s a firework display, he might even go talk to her. Maybe ask her out. Fuck it, everyone else has romance in their lives… 

Ehhhh… Nah. They don’t even have the sneakers he wants. 

He leaves without buying anything, telling himself that the distant sound he hears – it sounds a lot like a female voice screaming something about ONEWE – is all in his head.

He must just be really in the band-bubble, lately, to imagine he hears talk of his band out here in some random shoe shop.

_____

Dongmyeong scrolls through Twitter and Instagram, trying various different search terms in various different languages. 

He finds memes, edits, commentary – some of which he understands – and pictures. Lots and lots and _lots_ of pictures.

It’s so ridiculous that he’s even having to do this. Who has to trawl through the internet, looking for pictures of their boyfriend? 

_Not_ that Jun is his boyfriend. They’ve just been screwing, occasionally. And spending all their free time together. And texting a lot. And relying on each other for emotional support. For a year and a half. 

Anyway, why is Jun like this? Famously friendly, open and gregarious with everyone he meets… but shy about sending Dongmyeong pictures of himself. 

Well, whatever. Jun might be weirdly reluctant to share hot selfies, but when Jun is modest, the internet shall provide. 

And Dongmyeong definitely doesn’t have a growing collection of internet-poached photographs of his Not-Boyfriend saved to his phone. 

And he definitely isn’t running out of storage space. Nope.

_____ 

Gwangmin pauses, finger over his computer’s mouse. He’s had a rough year, especially with that awful job, dealing with those awful idol brats. He deserves a vacation. He’s got some savings, too. 

It’s a big trip – several US cities in a fairly compressed timeframe. But it’ll be worth it – get out and see the world, and have no reminders of ONEUS at all. 

He’ll hit up New York first, then Atlanta… no, he should go to Chicago before Atlanta. Then after Atlanta… Dallas? He’s heard so much about Texas! Okay, and then there’s Minneapolis, because he had a friend once who said there were lots of blonde chicks there. That’s worth it. 

And of course, he’ll finish in Los Angeles, maybe try to take one of those celebrity home tours or something. 

He’ll go in November, when ticket prices are lower. 

Gwangmin clicks _CONFIRM PURCHASE_ and breathes a sigh of relief. 

Finally. He’ll never have to think about ONEUS ever again. This trip will be the perfect escape.

_____ 

Giwook has gained a few hyungs, without even asking. 

Dongju has always basically been a brother to him, anyway, through Dongmyeong, and now Geonhak, plus Youngjo… it’s pretty awesome. 

And seeing how happy Yonghoon is with Youngjo? Well, yeah – it’s pretty cool. Giwook would never say this out loud to anyone, knows that it would just sound cringe-inducing, but… he’s been so prolific lately in part because of the support of this crazy, chaotic family of hyungs. 

ONEWE is his family. His wonderful, zany family. 

He finalizes the mix for another track, knowing this is eventually going on Soundcloud. He hugs his favorite Pokemon plushy close and smiles.

_____

**Bitchass Brother:** _Hey, Yonghee!_  
**Yonghee:** _the fuck are you texting me for, cunt-swaddled famous singer-baby-man??_  
**Bitchass Brother:** _But I’m older than you? Anyway, just saying hello and also, I’m excited to send you the link to our comeback! It’s really good, I’m so proud of Hyungu for writing it_  
**Yonghee:** _OMG you utter flaming pustule of a human, I’m your brother, not some simpering fangirl_  
**Bitchass Brother:** _Okay, well, he based it on the story of The Little Prince, which I know you always loved… so if you change your mind,  
[here’s the link!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqaY9H1VOV8)_  
**Yonghee:** _dream on, self-absorbed shit-snozzler_

Yonghee huffs at his phone and sets it face-down on the desk. He needs to concentrate, dammit. 

He opens the tab on his computer back up:  
_Tips for Streaming ONEWE’s Regulus to Maximize the Viewcount_

Okay. Cool. Maybe he can do some promo in the music video comments, while he’s here. 

_____ 

Some of the other ONEUS musicians have recorded covers, already. Not even formal side projects, just fun little forays into covering the music they enjoy in their free time. 

Thus, it’s not difficult to convince the company bosses to let Youngjo record a cover on his own. He asks whether they can maybe get it out roughly around… say, the next Valentine’s Day? 

It’s a bit far out, he acknowledges, but… it’ll be a fun surprise! For the fans! For the fans.

The company bosses agree. The rough timeline will go something like: record the vocals now, before they fly to the USA – then grab some video footage of Youngjo-as-Ravn walking around American cities – and finally, make a lofi music video, then upload it to YouTube sometime mid-February 2020. Why not? 

Recording day arrives.

Youngjo’s not sure whether this recording engineer, Seungwoo, understands any English. Time to find out!

He hands the lyric sheet to Seungwoo and steps inside the recording booth. 

_Through drought and famine, natural disasters  
My baby has been around for me  
Kingdoms have fallen, angels be calling  
None of that could ever make me leave  
Every time I look into your eyes I see it  
You're all I need  
Every time I get a bit inside I feel it_

_Ooh, who could've thought I'd get you  
Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you_

_And when we're making love  
Your cries they can be heard from far and wide  
It's only the two of us  
Everything I need's between those thighs  
Every time I look into your eyes, I see it  
You're all I need  
Every time I get a bit inside, I feel it…_

He watches the engineer’s face – no reaction. Perfect.

Youngjo cannot _believe_ he is actually going to get away with this. 

His life is the fucking best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseIsRelatable/pseuds/RoseIsRelatable) told me to write Youngjo/Yonghoon, so... I did.  
> _____ 
> 
> As promised, some of my references are available to you [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1Rjamu6Jecm8ngGYYe8DVQ3HKv_PLGiNRJZs93jTPP8I/edit?usp=sharing). 
> 
> _____
> 
> Listen, if you made it through over 50,000 words of Yonghoon/Youngjo, we already have a lot in common. Let's be friends. 
> 
> ❤️


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